Harry Potter And The Aspects Of Death
by michaelsuave
Summary: What would happen if Harry Potter was the Master of Death from the time of his infancy? What if being "marked as his equal" meant that Harry was also on the path to immortality? Dark but not evil Harry. Powerful. Manipulative Dumbles, bashing.
1. Chapter 1 Death Is Only The Beginning

Harry Potter And The Aspects Of Death

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.

**AN: **This is my first take at writing something other than a one-shot fanfiction. I have written little stories based on computer games for a gaming industry website, but haven't gotten back into writing until recently. Any constructive criticism is welcome as well as individuals who are interested in beta-reading or review/editing. Reviews are more than welcome. Flamers who do not add any benefit to their criticism will be summarily scheduled to have their kidneys and liver removed and wake up in a tub of ice; at least then they will be of some value to society.

**What would happen if Harry Potter was the Master of Death from the time of his infancy? What if being "marked as his equal" meant that Harry was also on the path to immortality? Dark but not evil Harry. Powerful. Manipulative Dumbles, bashing. NOT SLASH**

Chapter 1, **Death is only the beginning**

_It is said that you are never more alive than at the time of your birth; every following step on the road of life is one step closer to your inevitable death._

As Dumbledore sat in his darkened office, dwarfed behind his large desk covered in knick-knacks bobbles and piles of parchment, he postulated on what the news of the day would mean to his life, his position, his power. Yes, Albus Dumbledore, the individual with more names and titles than anybody else in the wizarding world currently possessed, was delving into the meaning of a certain prophesy that had been told to him earlier that day; a prophesy that wasn't about him directly yet had the potential to push him out of his comfy life as "Light Lord" of the wizarding world. How he enjoyed manipulating the sheep of the wizarding world. Yes he was a Light Lord, but the similarities and difference between a Light Lord and a Dark Lord were merely their goals and their means. When comparing the Light to the Dark, both desired power, both desired fame. Where the two differed was in the fact that one would strive to keep the order and stability through the use of manipulation and knowledge to raise themselves to the pinnacle of society, and the other used fear and hatred to breed the chaos that would bring them to greater power. However, when looking at the actions of the two, you would be surprised to find that both were willing to sacrifice or use the deaths of others to their gain; humorously enough it was the dark that was at least honest that they were willing to kill to gain their goal, whereas the light always shook their head in the artifice of sadness and stated that it was for the "greater good." History would be shocked to find out that the true differences between Grindelwald and his lover Albus was not that the sheep needed to be controlled or that they should rule the world, rather their disagreement was which of them should be first in ruling the world and whether fear, or manipulation, would be the primary tool of success. Ultimately it was the subterfuge and manipulation of the "light" that lead Albus to shoot his lover in the back when he least expected it, thus securing Albus's mantle as "the leader of the light," his Order of Merlin, First Class, and the Ellhorn Wand; better known as the "Death Stick" or Elder Wand.

So it was that Albus contemplated what to do about this latest snag in his game of life. The prophesy stated by his new Divinations professor "clearly" showed that somebody other than Albus would be knocking off the latest "Dark Lord." It wasn't that Albus minded all that much that he wouldn't have to test himself against the strength of Voldemort. It wasn't even that he minded somebody else knocking off the "Dark Lord" who was currently grasping at Dumbledore's power. No, what Albus was stewing over was the advent and birth of new competition. If there was one thing that a "Light Lord" couldn't stand to exist was another "Light Lord," heaven forbid that that one "Light Lord's" 'greater good' conflicted with the other "Light Lord's" 'greater good.' No, Albus decided, there could only be one "greater good" and it would be Albus's decision what that was.

Albus thought to himself, "I didn't go about shooting my lover in the back and ruining my sex life for nothing!" Truth be told, Albus had had a long run of unwanted celibacy, for who would think that the great "Light Lord" Dumbledore had such base needs. "Yes," Albus thought, "I think I kind of screwed myself over when I presented myself as being above and beyond the masses." "Kind of makes finding a 'partner' difficult when everybody sees you as their grandfather."

Perhaps it was this lack of proper balancing of his body chemistry that had built up to the point where he would make a fateful mistake. Perhaps it was the calming draught infused lemon drops that he was addicted to. Or perhaps it was the fact that Albus had started to believe all of his self touted publicity. Whatever the reason, his next actions would lead to his inevitable downfall and the destruction of the wizarding world as he had crafted it.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

_But he will have power the Dark Lord Knows not…_

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"_

"Yes," Albus thought, "I must see to the control and eventual destruction of my yet to be born competition." "Mental note, make sure to slip a portion of prophecy to my pet Death Eater." Then stating out loud to his near empty office, "For who is better able to guide and lead the wizarding world than Albus Dumbledore, the greatest Light Lord to walk the planet!" The pitiful scoffing warble of his "familiar" Fawkes was his only reply.

"Shut up slave, I didn't ask you!" Albus snidely spit while flinging a wordless silencing spell at his annoying pet bird. All of the former headmasters' paintings and even the sorting hat stayed silent in the face of Ablus's anger; the face of anger that the rest of the world never saw. All remained silent as the headmaster returned to his planning.

(Half a year later*)

The Potters were a happy family, rich, attractive, young, and in love. They had everything they wanted. With the birth of their first born child they were ecstatically happy, even if a war was going on in the world around them. "Yes," James thought, "The Potter family line is secure." Even with the specter of death hovering over the wizarding community, it was good to know that the most Ancient and Noble House of Potter would continue. James contemplated the family before him, and though he was saddened by the loss of his parents to the war, his hope was buoyed by the thought that the family who was rumored to be of Griffindor's line, possibly Merlin's, would still continue. Yes, the house who had introduced civilization to the ability to store objects in clay vessels and was even touted as the creators of the wheel would still continue in and through his son Harry. With that thought James turned back from gazing out the window of the nursery and looked over his son who was playing peacefully with a stuffed grim in his crib.

Harry looked up at his father with a happy and baby-teeth filled smile. "Padfoo!" little Harry stated, holding up the grim to his father.

James grinned at Harry, "Yes Harry, just like your uncle padfoot."

Harry looked up at James, and then scrunched up his cute little nose, and suddenly the stuffed grim turned into a miniature stuffed wolf. "Mooo- nee!" Harry said with a big smile.

James was flabbergasted, absolutely stunned and open mouthed. "Lily! Lily come quickly! LILY!"

"What! What happened! Is Harry Alright, is he ok, is he sick? Does he have a fever! Do we have to take him to the hospital? Fast, let me cast a diagnostic charm?" Lily spit out as she rushed headlong into the room and to Harry's crib.

James grabbed her arm as she started the diagnostic twist and flick with her wand. "No Lils, look at his stuffed toy! Do you recognize that?"

"Yes, it looks like Remus when he is having his furry little problem, what the big deal?" Lily suggested in confusion.

"Um, Lily, we never bought Harry a stuffed werewolf… Up until a couple of seconds ago, that was his stuffed Grim!" James beamed. "Yep, that's right, little Harry takes after his father! His first accidental magic and it is transfiguration! That's my boy!" He bellowed in glee while picking Harry up and spinning him around.

James twirled Harry around, and then pulled him close to him so that he could blow a raspberry on his stomach, eliciting a giggle from Harry. "That's my boy, the next marauder and youngest wandless magic user!" James said as he brought Harry close and rubbed noses with him. Unfortunately for James, Harry's young nose was a bit sensitive, and the nose rub, or Eskimo kiss as it is called in some parts of the world, initiated a huge sneeze from little Harry.

"ACHOO!" Harry exclaimed, sneezing all over James's face.

Lily, who had been silently smiling at the interaction between her husband and adorable child, looked at her husband in the aftermath of the sneeze and covered her mouth. She coughed, and then burst out laughing at James. She absolutely couldn't retain her mirth and the tears were rolling down her face as she moved towards James and relieved Harry from his hands.

"James, *chuckle*, you have to go look in the mirror." Lily said with a smile. Fully taking Harry into her arms and giving him a big hug.

James moved across the well upholstered room, around the crib, past the toy bin and diaper table and to the floor to ceiling mirror.

He was blue… Absolutely smurf blue… blueberry blue… Blue as the Caribbean Sea, bluer than the sky after the rain clears. Heck, he was as blue as the time that they did the switching spell with the blue muggle upholstery die and Snivelous's shampoo for greasy hair! God! He was blue from his head to his toes, his clothes, his skin, everything... Yep, James pulled the front of his now blue pants away from his waste and checked his bits… yep, they were blue. James was ecstatic!

"I guess that gives a new meaning to the term "Blue balls" doesn't it?" James stated. Turning away from the mirror to smile at Lily, he smiled a huge blue toothed smile, "Sirius is going to be thrilled! His godson's first prank!"

Lily smiled back at James and then pulled Harry into a tighter hug, tickling Harry a little bit and producing a giggle from her darling boy, "Who's mummy's little charms master? Who's mommy's little charms master? You are!" This was stated with a little tickling of Harry's stomach and sides, causing the child to twitch and giggle with glee.

With a flick of her wand James resumed his normal James type color scheme and then proceeded to ask James how Harry turned his stuffed animal into a wolf. James went on to describe exactly how Harry had scrunched up his cute little nose (for every parent thinks their child is the cutest in the world), looked at the stuffed toy, and seamlessly transfigured it into the stuffed wolf. "James, this is incredible." Lily stated, "Yes the sneeze was probably accidental, but from your description Harry changed his toy on purpose. Wandless magic at his age! It's absolutely wonderful!" She exclaimed while setting Harry back in his crib and patting his head gently.

James reached down to the floor and picked up the stuffed wolf that had been dropped in the excitement. He smiled at Harry and put the wolf down next to young son.

Harry smiled in glee and looked up at his parent. "Wuf!" Harry said. The little boy then looked at the wolf and started clapping his hands, to which the wolf suddenly came to life and started pouncing about the crib, occasionally jumping up on Harry and licking Harry's face with his stuffed tongue, which surprisingly left a wet slobbery streak across Harry's little cheek, much to his joy and giggles and his parents' open mouthed stares.

'What an amazing son they had,' they both silently thought, watching their smiling and giggling son play with his now enchanted toy.

Halloween, 1981.

Though the love had grown, the peace and thrill of life had taken a turn for the Potter family. Informed by their trusted mentor Dumbledore that there was a prophecy that could relate to them or the Longbottoms, they had gone into hiding. Voldemort was hunting them specifically, and though they had fought him and escaped to fight another day, neither of the Potters was confused on the realities of what would happen if it came to a face to face battle with the Dark Lord. Still, they refused to give up on living. They both continued their work from their safe house in Godric's Hallow. James reviewed auror intelligence reports on Death Eater movements, and Lily worked to better understand the secrets found in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, specifically she continued her job as an Unspeakable and her project on understanding the Veil of Death; that ghastly monolithic structure where she could hear the whispery voices of her deceased parents echoing out of the black and grey swirling veil. Yet still they enjoyed their time with their child, their happy and very powerful child.

Dumbledore had suggested that they bind Harry's powers so that he could "better grow into his powers under the guidance of his family and elders." But the Potters absolutely refused, as their son was happy and healthy and had shown no signs of malicious acts of magic… Well not malicious when you consider he was a son, godson, and nephew to the Marauders. Heck, Sirius had been thrilled when Harry gave him a pair of antlers that refused to disappear for a week, and it wasn't as if Peter wasn't used to having a Rat's head and perspective to look at the world with… though he probably wasn't used to having a rat's head on top of his human body. And it wasn't like Dumbledore didn't get his wand back from Harry eventually after he tried to cast a diagnostic charm on Harry and was blasted into the wall across the living room from where Harry was seated; Albus's wand had landed neatly in Harry's hand after that. The Potters reasoned that no harm had been done. Harry had quickly changed the colors of the house to green, then red, then as black as his hair, and shot wispy sparks and smoke out of the black and grey wand as he waved it about. But he was a good boy and had nicely given it to his father when asked for it. After all, Dumbledore didn't seem to be too worst for wears afterwards, and had abruptly stated that he needed to leave to set up a meeting of the Order very soon thereafter.

But no, all in all they were a happy family, and at that moment they were having a fun game of peek-a-boo with Harry.

"Peek-a-boo! I see you!" James said, his head appearing to float in the air in front of Harry's crib. "Now you see your daddy prongs… And now you don't!" Harry giggled and clapped his hands, "Prowns!" Harry said with glee.

James appeared again, and then draped the invisibility cloak, a family heirloom, around his son, covering him from his shoulders to his toes. "Shhh, harry, let's play a prank on your mum!" James whispered to Harry. To which Harry nodded and giggled.

"AHHHH! Lily! Come quick! Harry has splinched himself and I can't find his body! "James screamed, struggling to keep a smile from issuing out.

Lily rushed out of her office where she had been studying a charcoal rubbing of the runes inscribed on The Veil from the Department of Mysteries. Quickly shrinking the rubbing and sticking it in her blouse pocket, she rushed down the hall, and into Harry's nursery, wand drawn and ready for anything.

Taking one look in the room, seeing Harry giggling in his crib with his head seeming to float, and then James as he had that "innocent" smile he used when attempting to get out of trouble, she stopped in the threshold and her eyes went cold.

"James Potter! That was not funny, how would you like to have something splinched and not be able to find it?" Lily said with cold anger as she marched into the room and started poking James in the chest with the point of her wand. "Not that you are going to need that certain something while you are sleeping on the couch." She stated while glaring at him with a wand now pointed at his bits.

"Um, sorry Lily..." James said demurely while slightly crossing his legs and moving his body slowly so that he presented a side view. It was always good to shield the boys with the body when dealing with an irate witch; sometimes flesh wounds were the lesser of two evils. He knew that his wife was a bit attached to his bits, what with the proof sitting there in his crib giggling, but it was never worth taking that on 100% faith, what with her being a red-head and prone to the inherent temper that comes with the hair color. "We were just having some fun with you, we didn't mean…"

Suddenly a loud gong sounded, reverberating through the house. James eyes got huge, as did Lily's as they looked at each other in dread. The wards had just been tripped. There was only one thing that could trip the wards and issue that individual sound, Voldemort was just outside the house.

"Quick, Lily, take Harry, I'll try and hold him off!" He yelled, pulling his wand and sprinting down the stairs. Sliding around the corner of the stair well and into the living room, he just had time enough to dive behind a couch as the front door was blasted off its hinges, flew across the room, and imbedded itself in the wall above the couch.

James immediately stuck his wand over the side of the couch and started to do a spray and pray, casting as many deadly and debilitating spells as he could at the door and praying that something got through or at least slowed the red eyed menace walking through the smoking threshold. He prayed that he could give Lily enough time to get the emergency portkey to work or at least apparate out with Harry. He knew he wouldn't make it, but he knew his death would give Lily the time she needed. Little did he know, but Lily was suffering a setback of her own.

Upstairs, little Harry knew something bad was going on. His Mum and Da only used those tones of voice when they were arguing over his uncle moony or when they had that bearded man come over, the one who smelled wrong but let him play with his wand. He looked at his mum and said, "Mummy, is ok? Where da?"

Lily, worriedly patting her pockets down looking for her emergency portkey quickly took everything out of her pockets and laid them next to Harry in his crib. There was her pocket book of arithmancy, and the sprig of holly that Harry had picked for her, and in her breast pocket was the rubbing of the Veil, but no portkey. "Da is going to be ok Harry, but we have to go on a little trip first." She said with a great deal of trepidation and not a lot of hope, the type of statement a parent makes to a child when they want to assuage the fears of their child and don't mind lying at the time.

Just as she moved to pick him up to apparate out of the house, she felt an anti-apparation ward go up, that tickling feeling on the back hairs of her neck that told her that she was trapped. Stopping in mid motion, she turned towards the door and immediately started to cast every locking and security spell she could at the door. Hopefully securing it until help could come.

Suddenly it was silent… the sounds of the battle down stairs quieting to a stillness that can only come in the absence of breathing, the absence of heartbeats and blood pumping. She knew James was dead… And then she heard it, the slow methodic steps coming up the wooden stairs towards the nursery at the top.

Now if this had been another reality, another story, things may have gone as expected. An explosive force, a confrontation, and a begging from one party only to be met with the derision and scorn of the other; a scorn for anything that the individual felt was weak or "impure." However there was one small change in this reality, for in this reality, Tom Marvolo Riddle decided that he would take the signet ring of the Gaunt's and Slytherin's with him that night, a part of his soul and a key to his power. He had decided that he would wear his signature of power and Slytherin supremacy as he snuffed out the line of Gryffindor. But little did he know Fate was a bitch, willing to play with the lives of mortals and immortals alike; even if those immortals only had a rude bastardized version of true everlasting life. Marked as his equal the boy would be…

As Lily's body fell lifeless to the floor, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the crib with Harry in it. Hoping to blot out the "stain" on his "inevitable" rise to power, Voldemort stepped into the room, pointed the wand at Harry's head at point blank range, and cast an overpowering killing curse, trying to destroy not only the boy but the room around him. A mistake of catastrophic proportions…

Harry had seen his mother fall, and he knew she was dead. The first flash of green death in the room had triggered a change that would eventually shake the world. The scent of death permeated the room to his strangely in-tuned magical senses. Knowledge and reasoning from outside his body started to filter into his mind, percolating and bubbling to the forefront of his perceptions. Wrapped in the cloak of invisibility, and the true owner of the elder wand, never had the owners of all three deathly hallows been in the same room since the brothers Peverell had forged their gifts and parted company. Yes, possession is said to be nine tenths of the law in the muggle world, but the Olde Magicks saw things in more black and white, life and death. So when Harry had disarmed Albus in the midst of Albus's casting on Harry, the infant had become the master of the Death Stick, the wand with bodie of Ellhorn. Surrounded by the cloak and sitting on the rubbings of the very gate between this world and the realm of death, Harry watched the killing curse hurdle towards him. Avada Kedavra green eyes staring straight into the oncoming green curse of the same name and color. Just as the curse hit him straight on, seeming to enter into his body and absorb into it and the rubbing beneath him.

The world stopped.

Caught out of time; the only things moving where Harry, and the strangely vibrating cloak, ring, and wand that had suddenly appeared in Harry's little hand.

Harry slowly looked around. He was strangely cognizant of the world around him, more so than he had ever been in his short life; more so than he should be at his physical age. He looked up, and noted that the mean man who had hurt his mother was not breathing. In fact, Harry realized that he wasn't breathing; he couldn't even feel his little heart beating. No breeze brushed his face from the open doorway, and the smoke from the blast to the door hung strangely unmoving in the "air" around him.

Caught out of time Harry continued to look around and noticed the ring that was vibrating on the wand hand pointed at him. The ring held a somewhat common stone on it, as if it were a random stone or pebble picked from the edge of a stream or river, slightly polished by time and the flow of elements passing it by. Though it seemed to be inscribed with an S, Harry was strangely able to distinguish that it looked newly inscribed, as if the age of the common stone was far vaster than that of the ring itself. Yet the ring perplexingly called to him, as if it held its own old power, separate from the dark wizard who currently wore it. It was an old power that seemed to resonate with the sense of death in the room, with the curse just cast, and the two items now in his possession. Following the line of the time halted green curse, from his face to the wand of the wizard, Harry gazed at the hand and figure that the ring was upon. The finger was splayed out, looking like the hand holding the wand between thumb and forefinger didn't have a care in the world and would almost hold a wine stem the same way. The ring was tantalizing. It seemed to call to Harry, something deep within him, something primordial, something inscribed into his very DNA was demanding that he grab the ring.

So ,as if like all small children when faced with a new object that they desire, young Harry grabbed the ring off of the statuesque finger in front of him… and the world exploded…

Time returned. The point blank spell rebounded at a hundred times the speed it had hit Harry, blasting back at the Dark Lord, propelling Voldemort into and the ceiling and immediately rendering his body into ashes; further propelling the dark spirit of Voldemort tumbling through the wall and out of the County/Shire let alone the house.

The room crumbled and darkened as if an invisible or dark fire had eaten away at it, leaving little more than a carbon scored and crumbling ceiling, wall and floor. Only the body of poor Lily Potter was untouched by the blast, resting in pure and perfect silence.

Silence… pure unadulterated silence echoed through the house and its surrounds. It was as if the whole world went silent for a moment. For as the as the combustive force cleared the room and the proverbial dust settled, there was no hint of Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2 Deaths Apprentice

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.

**AN1: Several beta-readers have offered their services and I am going to see if I can connect with them before publishing chapters. I have several chapters plotted out and partially written already and I'll let people know if for some strange reason it doesn't work out to connect with one of the beta readers who have contacted me. My first priority is getting out a quality story, my second is to get it out while it is fresh in my head... I hate abandoned storys and pledge to finish this one at all costs.**

**AN: Thank you to all of you who reviewed. Honestly, Reviews help me write faster and encourage me to put more effort into my writing. Thanks, and keep it up!**

**Chapter 2, The Lessons Of Death's Apprentice**

_**Master**__- 1. To overcome or subdue; bring under control; defeat. 2. To become expert in. 3. To control or govern as a master. 4. The knowledge or skill of a master. 5. Superiority in a contest; victory… _Webster's Dictionary

To master a skill, to acquire true knowledge and ultimately conquer something, a person must first experience it. This was all the more true in the world of wizards and magic as theory did not equate immediately to the actual practical application. There was a reason why the tradition of the master and apprentice relationship continued in modern times as it had since the times of Merlin and the Founders of Hogwarts; reasons beyond the fact that the wizarding world was bass-ackwards. The hands on teaching was an integral part of understanding and practicing all of the aspects of magic, even the olde magicks. Thus in keeping with the traditions of mastering the practical aspects of magic, Harry Potter was dead.

Dead as a doorpost, stiff as a board, 6 feet under, pushing up daisies, livingly challenged, or as the Lovegoods would say, Harry James Potter was currently enjoying the great snorak hunt in the skies. That's right; Harry Potter had transcended this plane of reality and entered the next great adventure. In so few words, Dead…

Harry woke up… or at least he thought he woke up. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he definitely recalled Voldemort killing his mother and trying to kill him. Which in and of itself wouldn't be considered strange except he didn't recall ever hearing the name Voldemort in his one year of living let alone figure out how he had the understanding of what death was. His brain swirled and flitted from tangent to tangent of information and knowledge beyond most adults' experience, frankly, his head felt stuffed full. He knew his family's history, he knew the wizarding world's history, heck, and he knew the muggle world's version of history. "OW!" Harry said, "I never really wanted to know what an amoeba felt like at birth and in its final minutes" "Cell division isn't a whole lot of fun" "Where the bloody hell am I?" He said out loud, his eyes staying cringed shut from the pain of the vast array of knowledge flying through his head. "Better yet, how the bloody hell am I able to form complex sentences and understand the meaning of a complex sentence? Where the hell did all of this knowledge come from!"

Drifting beyond his introspection, Harry struggled to open his eyes and stood up, only to take a walking step forward… again, a troubling instance when one moment you were unable to effectively crawl and the next you are walking… It was then that Harry realized that his feet were a lot farther down from his head than he was used to.

One second he had been in his crib with the occasional nibbling on his own toes, as most babies do, and the next he was standing at 5 foot 11 with the world looking a lot different. Naked to the world, or at least the underworld, Harry was shocked. "Dear lord, when did that grow!" Harry gasped while looking at his midsection. Looking down, his abs were rock solid with a defined six pack, his chest above and his legs below were muscular, but not overly muscled. Apparently dying had agreed with him as his body was strong and lean, cut muscle but not obscene where the veins were overly exposed; Harry was built for speed and strength. Turning his head he looked at his hands and up his arms, over his left shoulder, and then his right. He was again shocked, this time it was to see his pale flawless skin inscribed with a black runic symbol. A triangle was surrounded by a circle and bisected by a straight line that ran right along his spine, the sides of the circle touched on the insides of his shoulder blades. The black of the sign seemed to swallow the light rather than be a dye. Reaching his hand back to touch the edge of the circle he realized that his skin didn't feel a different, and yet there was a strange sense of coolness, or lack of heat that came from the point of contact with the tattoo; all without any noticeable difference in his overall body temperature or a chill down his back.

"_Looks good on you…" _

"Who's there?" Harry snapped, looking up quickly and spinning around. All around him, from one horizon to the next was a grey swirling mist, smoke, steam… as in the very espers of the world were in constant motion yet trapped in a canopy of black and whites mixed with swirling wafting grey. No ground, no sky, nothing to delineate which direction was up or down let alone east, west, north or south. "Who is out there?" He said again, panning his head back and forth.

"_There? There is no there… There is only here…" "You are here with I/__**We/**__Us__… In us, with us, around us… __Both beneath us and above us__… __**You are now **__**We"**_

"Um, I don't understand. How come I can't see you, um, us, um, me? Whatever you are?" Harry replied while continuing to turn around looking for the voice, or voices.

"_You return to us our cloak and now wonder why you can't see I… perceive __**WE**__?" "Ahhhh, yes, that feels good… __**to be **__**complete again, **__whole again, __**US AGAIN!"**_

"I'm sorry, but do I know you? Who are you? Better yet, what are you? "Harry said with confusion.

"_Your Grandfather's grandfather's many times grandfather knew us, and so did his brothers… __He was our equal when he became Us…__** And now that you have returned not only his gift but his brothers, We have our power, our direction, and our stealth."**_

"Uh, so you're Death? Is that right?" Cringed Harry.

_"**Yes"**_ stated the voices, seeming to come from all around him yet without a particular direction.

"So I'm dead?" Harry said with a flinch.

"_Yes__**… **__No…__**Both**__…"_

"Ah, would you care to explain that in something other than one word answers?" Harry asked, confusion clearly painted on his face.

"_You are with I, Part of I, so You are Dead… __Yet you did not die, the curse did not bring only your soul here, so you are not dead…__** But both your body and soul are here, so you are both…**_

Raising one eye brow and continuing to turn around in a circle to address the voices, Harry stated, "Um, so what does that make me?"

"_**The Grim Reaper"**_ The voices stated.

Open mouth, stuttering, and finally realization…"WAIT! I'm the Grim Reaper! I don't want to be the Grim Reaper; I don't want to be a big walking skeleton with a scythe!" Harry said with wide eyes.

"_He, He, He… that gets them every time… __Yes, Us is very funny… __**We are just playing with you Harry…"**_

"Great," Harry thought, "Death has a sense of humor." Taking a breath and a chance to calm himself he asked, "Then what am I?"

"_**Your Grandfather's Grandfather was our equal. You returned all three of our gifts to our realm, thus You are the Apprentice, and one day the Master of Death." **_Said all of the voices together.

Stunned, Harry didn't really know what to say. Stopping to think for a second, he realized that in the confusion he had misplaced some very important information. "Um, Ok I guess, but what about my parents? If they died, are they here?" He said whipping around, now looking for his Mum and Dad. "Do I get to see them and spend time with them? I mean, If I'm your apprentice and they are dead, do I get to be with them?"

"…_sigh…I am Sad to say, but… No…" _

"_It is true that they have passed through us, that they have died…" _

"_**But We do not have them anymore. **__They have passed beyond The Veil__**…**__Past us and onto their reward…__**"**_

Choking up, Harry asked, "Will I ever be able to be with them again?"

"_Yes __And __**No…"**_wheezed out the voice in the air around him.

"Damn it! Stop that! Give me an answer!" he yelled with angst and fury, his eyes glistening with unspent tears. "Is it a bloody yes or a no?"

"_Patience… __It is both…__**You are here, you are We, so you can never fully go there, yet if you become Master, then you can visit them, see them, be with them… for a …time…"**_

"Time? How much time?" He yelled, again spinning around as if to find the source of the voices.

Again the voices came from everywhere and nowhere, "_Patience, for time means nothing to Us…__ It means nothing to Harry Potter now, nothing to I… __**As you are part of We…**__"_

Breathing deeply, Harry attempted to bring his emotions under control. Oddly enough, the swirling memories, thoughts and knowledge thundering through his head helped to quell his temper and thoughts of his parents. It's hard to focus on anything, let alone the loss of your parents, when it seems the knowledge of time, humanity, and creation is plowing through your head like a freight train. Putting his palms to his eyes and rubbing down his face, he ran his hands up through his hair and gave it a tug, trying to relieve some of the pressure he felt.

Sighing and looking down he said, "Fine, so I can't be with them until I become the Master of Death. Great, just great! So is there anything you can do about all of these thoughts in my head? Where did they bloody come from and why have I changed so much, and why does it bloody hurt so much?" Harry scathingly said.

"_You gave I our gifts back, so we gave you our knowledge…"_

" _There are no secrets in Death, there are no secrets kept from Us when death comes for the mortal…"_

"_**You are now Death, so We keep no secrets from you…"**_

"Great, Just great…" Harry said shaking his head and scuffing his feet at the imaginary dirt that would be under his feet if he was in the mortal world. Looking back up he said, "So is there any way for me to get rid of some of this information, or at least use it?"

"_Death does not forget…__**We cannot forget…"**_

_I use the information and experiences of those who have passed through I… __**We can use the information in the mortal realm if we deign to walk amongst it…**_

"Ok, so why do I need to be an apprentice then if I have all of the knowledge and experience of those who have died?"

_**We are Death, we have the experience and knowledge of those who have passed through us… **__You are now death, you are now US, but you were not part of US when they passed through US…__I can only give you the experiences of those who have passed through you while you are part of I…__**Yet we do not forget, so we can give you the knowledge of those who have passed through We, for you are now part of We…**_

"Oooook… A bit confusing, but I think I understand. Damn this headache is giving me hell!" Harry blinked back the pain to continue, "So I have all this knowledge that is whipping through my head that I'm supposed to be able to use, and I can gain the experiences of those who pass through me. I got that part. So what am I supposed to do, sit here and wait for somebody to die and then pick up their soul or something?" "How am I to be your apprentice in this place? Are we going to start training?"

"_Nooo… you gain experience by living…"_

"Um, excuse me, bit confused here… If I'm dead, then I'm supposed to gain experience by living? What the hell?"

"_Patience… The use of the knowledge will come through living, through experiencing, through taking the experiences of those who pass through you…__**We will send you back… Time means nothing to Death…You will live as Death as We are Death… we also learn by those who pass through us…"**_

"Ok, so I'll go to the realm of the living again to figure out how to use this info. But Bloody hell does it hurt! How am I to use this freaking knowledge if I can't get it to sit still! And what do you mean by those who have passed through me?" Harry yelled, the pain growing to the point where he started to sink to his knees… The freight train that had previously been rolling through his head was now a sea of voices. Pounding, Pounding! Pounding to get out of his skull. It was absolutely debilitating…

Dropping to his knees in pain, he screamed out as the voices and knowledge reached his breaking point, the chaos of his thoughts was out of control… "ARRAAAGGHHH!" He screamed out…

_**We will show you what we mean by those who have passed through you…**__Mmmm, two tasty souls you bring Us. What a good apprentice you are to bring US a treat on your first Time of class…__I will now pass them through you, the bit from the ring, and the bit from your head… Such tasty darkness… __**This will hurt a bit...**_

…PAIN, pure unadulterated pain… It was as if the anguish of the information in his head that had caused Harry to scream out was the equivalent of stubbing his toe on a dandelion. It was difficult to describe just what to compare the feeling to when the new pain hit him. In fact, the English vernacular just didn't do justice to the feeling, nor was the word "Pain" encompassing enough for the shear agony that now struck Harry Potter.

As he knelt down in pain from the information ringing in his head, specks of black substance started to congeal in the air around him and start their inexorable pull towards his body. It looked as if Harry was a giant magnet, and these specks of darkness were like iron filings that appeared in the air around him and started to fly at him, first slowly and then picking up speed in a very short time until it was like he was being riddled with bullets; bullets that hit him and stuck to him… First covering him in little dust sized particles, and then growing into larger blobs on his body as the almost tar like substance stuck to him, clung to him, as he fell to the ground and writhed in pain.

The blobs became masses, and the masses became an all covering black ooze that covered every part of his once pale naked body. He flailed on the ground, kicking and twitching, screaming non-stop, as he didn't really need to breath and there was no such thing as air in the realm of death. Eyes wide, the blackness crept into his eyes until they were one large pupil, sucking in the light. His scream was finally cut off as the material stopped congealing in the air and the final piece had hit him. His scream was abruptly shut off as his open mouth was covered in the black sludge, now pouring down his throat and in through his nostrils, into his insides. But that was only the visual seen and external ramifications of the painful procedure.

The soul of Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, had been changed to a dark thing. Rituals to strengthen his soul's connection to magic and his magical core were inherent in the shreds of soul that had been combined from the horcruxes of the ring and Harry's scar. These rituals and the darkness that was Voldemort were now being absorbed into Harry's being. Fate was striking out again, as nobody ever said fate was fair. Harry would be truly marked as Voldemort's equal.

Burning, bubbling, churning, the very molecules and cells of Harry's body were rapidly being torn apart and remade. From his bones to their marrow, from his veins to his nerves, even his magical pathways were changing and being forcefully enlarged from that of a young child, or young man, to that of a fully developed Dark Lord at the age of 50. All the while his brain was being rearranged and sorted, for after all Voldemort was a master Occlumens and Legilimens. All of the information and knowledge past down to Harry from Death that had already been whipping through his brain now accelerated to the speed of light and forcefully shoved itself into an organized pattern and method. Shields and protections that would have taken painstaking effort and fatigue over years of life where thrown up, using Harry's body and magic as fuel for the transformation. The magic was flowing through his body like a fiendfire torrent the size of Hogwarts; struggling to force the body mind and magic of Harry into the form that Fate wished. The pain was simply indescribable as the rituals that Voldemort did blended their benefits into Harry's body and mind in an instant rather than over a prolonged period of rituals and rest.

As the light-sucking fluid flowed around and into Harry's body, he suddenly went totally ridged… Hard as stone the black fluid suddenly solidified in and around Harry, completely mummifying him… It was as if the soul of Voldemort was trying to claim Harry Potter once and for all and remake Harry's soul in Voldemort's image…

And then the soul of the current apprentice of Death retaliated...

Power, the power of one who is part of Death, is the personification of Death, who is the legendary Master of Death awoke inside Harry's soul. He had absorbed the stone that was Death's gift to control the spirits. He had absorbed and become the very Death Stick that gave its wielder unimaginable power. And so it was with this control of souls and the power of Death itself did Harry's body seem to literally explode.

If one were to have heard it they would hear the combined sound of a nuclear explosion at ground zero combined with the whizzing sound of shrapnel whizzing by after a fragmentation artillery round goes off just outside their foxhole. The black crust and crud that had been encapsulating Harry vaporized in an instance of pure white light exploding from Harry, flying from the entire surface of Harry's body. Harry's eyes lit up as if two beams of power, first in deep blood red, and then white, and finally green.

He screamed out in anguish, a scream that first started out as pain and then turned into a growl of anger and rage! "!"

Harry's body now floated off the ground, seeming to pivot at his feet so that his head and body raised as if fulcrumed at his heels. Moving as if a plank, his body first lifted him to a standing position, and then floated him up into the air where He was engulfed in a flailing maelstrom of white power. His soul, manifested in an aura of white blazing living fire around him lashed out, like tentacles of white writhing light, it struck out at any of the black shrapnel that had escaped the vaporizing force of Harry's power. The tentacles snapping like whips, some the size of great redwood trees, some thin as a cat's tail, flaying the particles that had tried entrapped and engulf him; utterly destroying the remnants of Voldemort's soul that had tried to corrupt Harry's very being.

Yes, Harry would be fated to be Voldemort's equal.

Yes, Harry was blessed and cursed to have the same knowledge and experience as Voldemort.

But more so, Harry's soul would not be corrupted by Voldemort. The purest soul of what had only moments ago been that of a young child's, would conquer the darkness that was Voldemort's dark taint.

Whereas Voldemort had only a cheap bastardized form of Immortality; Harry was Death, he would Conquer Death and be its Master. Harry's maturity and power were jumped to a new plateau as he gained the level of growth and power that Voldemort had. But that power and growth would only be a starting point for Harry as he grew. For Harry Potter would be the Master of Death. He would master the souls of those he experienced. Ultimately, he could only grow stronger…

The light issuing from Harry suddenly went out… And Harry's eyes slowly closed as his body slowly settled to the ground; leaving Harry standing on his two feet with his eyes shut and his head slightly bowed.

All was silent… The remnants of Voldemort's soul that had accompanied Harry Potter through Death's Veil were no more, and the vapors and wisps of grey, white and black in the realm of the veil of death settled back into their ever changing patterns.

"_Very good… I am pleased with you…", w_hispered the first voice of Death.

"_You are truly part of Us, and you shall continue to learn" _breezed the second voice, issuing from almost just out of hearing.

"_**We are pleased that you passed the first test and conquered the pain…"**_ came from all around Harry, as he stayed with his eyes closed, seemingly resting at attention, _**"For there is no pain in Death. We care not for pain, and you will care not for pain when you truly Master Death. We are always calm, always patient, and all suffering ends in death… Eventually…"**_

Harry's eyes slowly opened, and he raised his head. "I understand," Harry stated in a calm clear voice, his face divested of any real emotion. "I will learn, _what is to be _my next lesson?" He said, his voice issuing into tones that almost sounded like the first voice of Death before merging back into his own voice.

"_Good… I am pleased with your development… It will not hurt as much the next time…"_

"_Now is the time for you, our apprentice, to learn to be one with Us…"_

"_**We will send you forth to the time and place of your next lesson, your next experience…"**_

With death saying this, a clear thin line bisected the grey in front of Harry, only for the line to twist, swerve, expand and seem to open into a square doorway of orangish-fiery light; as if issued from the light of many torches.

Without looking around, and without looking down at his feet. Harry walked ithrough the doorway to the where, and when, of his next lesson.

In the realm of death, the doorway seemed to melt as if smoke, drifting away, blown on ethereal winds until there was no sign that it was ever there; and then there was only silence.

**AN: Did you like it? Is there something I can do better? Bet you can't guess where Harry is going.**

**Please review and I will take the time to write chapters faster.**

**Flamers will be relinquished to the living organ donors list so that they can be immediately harvested and made of some value to society.**


	3. Chapter 3 Burial After Death

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.

**AN1: Several beta-readers have offered their services and I am going to see if I can connect with them before publishing chapters. I have several chapters plotted out and partially written already and I'll let people know if for some strange reason it doesn't work out to connect with one of the beta readers who have contacted me. My first priority is getting out a quality story; my second is to get it out while it is fresh in my head... I hate abandoned stories and pledge to finish this one at all costs.**

**AN2: Parts of last chapter WERE deliberately ambiguous. The form of the symbols, the voices, and the journey all have a purpose; even if that purpose is tainted by my twisted mind, or is that twisted by my tainted mind... This story will eventually dip back into the cannon verse. The Dursleys will be addressed due to, if nothing else, popular demand. **

**AN3: This story will lead into the cannon story, though there will be some changes in events and Harry's interactions due to Harry's noted difference of how that Halloween night played out and Harry's development at the hands of death. After all, they do say that dealing with death ages you.**

**AN4: Thank you to all of you who reviewed. Honestly, Reviews help me write faster and encourage me to put more effort into my writing. I noticed that 1000+ people read my story in the first three days, but I only received 12 reviews. If people don't think it is worth their time to read, then by all means let me know. If they like it and want me to continue writing it, then please let me know via a review. This isn't blackmail, I honestly want to know if I should continue writing this story; so review if you want me to continue. Thanks and best wishes to all of you!**

Chapter 3: Burial After Death

I am dying, Egypt, dying. - William Shakespeare

Albus Dumbledore was a little bit angry… no, check that, Albus Dumbledore was furious, jump up and down on the sorting-hat, kick the animagus cat professor really really angry. Wild magic flew around the headmaster as he stomped around his office, his uncontrolled magic randomly transfiguring items in his office into sweet and sour muggle confections, namely, lemon-drops.

"Some days," Albus fumed to himself, "It just doesn't do to be the Greatest Dark Lord… um, I mean, the Greatest Light Lord ever." The day had been going so well, he thought. Yes, the plans had all fallen into place perfectly. A little hinting of a prophecy to an angsty death eater here, a little mind altering spells performed on weak willed rats over there, and bingo, he had the stage set to finally get that Potter brat under his control. Heck, he had even made sure that he had slipped the right potions into Sirius Black's drink at the Order meeting so that he would rush off to confront Pettigrew and set himself up to take the fall. "At least that part was a success," Albus grumbled, but then his thoughts shifted to the enormous problem with his plans, the spanner the size of the Thames that had proverbially been thrown into his works, "If only that dratted Potter boy wouldn't have disappeared!" Stomping around the room, sparks dancing off of the astrological symbols on his robes, honestly looking a bit like a sparkler at a fireworks show, Albus Dumbledore was ticked off.

Albus Dumbledore thought back over his night before, trying to figure out what went wrong.

Looking back to Halloween night, Albus had been sitting in his office with a nice bottle of Ogden's Finest, 300 year old fire-whiskey was a perfect treat for an occasion like this he had thought. Sitting, gazing at the fire and sipping the golden fire nectar, everything was going right; and when the device on his desk that monitored the wards at Godric's Hallow blew up, Albus had raised his glass to himself and the "greater good" that would come of the night. Namely, Ablus's greater good. Yes, not only would he get some good publicity, arriving just too late to rescue the Potters but just in time to play the dotting grandfather who saves the boy and rescues him, but he would have access to the Potter fortunes also. Little was known about how far back the Potter's family line extended, but there were rumors that the Potter line had extended back to Merlin and that a certain Greek member of the family had been named "Midas." Yes, the Potter's were rich and now Albus would be incredibly rich.

Taking out His Elder Wand, Albus put his hand out, trying to strike a "stunning pose" so that he would land in as grand of a stance as possible when Fawkes flamed him to the Potter's house. "Yes," he had thought, "All that time flexing and posing in the mirror really paid off." "I'm such a sexy beast" Albus thought. But, just as Albus was about to call Fawkes off his prison… um, he meant perch, his hand holding his wand hand flew up and bopped him right in the nose.

Through the tears of pain that come from getting smashed in the noggin, Dumbledore stumbled back, only to watch the Elder Wand pull out of his hand, float in the air for a second, and then disappear with a slight 'Pop'. That was only the beginning to Albus Dumbledore's really really, very very, supersized bad night.

The loss of the Elder Wand had set the tone of the Halloween night for Albus Dumbledore. Not only did he feel a significant decrease in his power and have to go back to using his original wand, 5 inches unicorn hair and rosewood with a slight reddish color (prone to shoot pink sparks and play the theme song from the care-bears*), but by the time he got to the Potter household, the action was already over, "robbing" Dumbledore of his chance to steal the glory, um… he meant rescue the Potter's heroically. After speaking with his henchman Hagrid, um, Dumbledore thought, he meant follower Hagrid, Dumbledore had rushed off to Gringotts where he used his powers to seal the Potter will and attempted to claim the fortune for himself. However the Goblins had been nonplussed by Dumbledore's actions and informed him that he could not claim the Potter fortune because Harry Potter still "existed." What really put an unbuttered scone up Albus's bumper was that the Goblins then informed him that he could not be the Magical Guardian of Harry Potter due to the Master and Apprentice Act of 1462; which still held that Masters were the Magical Guardian's of their Apprentice until such time as the Apprentice received their Mastership or left the apprenticeship. When Albus had attempted to ascertain the name and location of Harry's new Master, the Goblins had only given him a pointy toothed smile and said, "Nebulous in name and location." By Merlin he hated Goblins!

Coming back to himself after reliving his horrible past evening, Dumbledore sighed, "Oh well, I guess I'll have to go with plan B." "I hope that squib of a brat the Longbottom's bore is worth the effort." He thought to himself as he paced his office.

Stopping, and looking up with a slight smile, "Yes," Dumbledore said out loud. "Perhaps this situation can be turned for the better." "With the Longbottom's son being so weak, he will have to look to me for his protection and guidance." Smiling benevolently, or what anybody other than Dumbledore would call an 'evil smile,' his eyes twinkling with just the hint of madness, "Maybe if I can get some Death Eaters to "Randomly" torture the Longbottoms into insanity I can work the prophecy so that that Neville is the "Chosen one?" "Hmmm" Albus thought, "After all, Voldemort is an orphan. If I can make Neville one also through the use of Voldemort's minions, then perhaps this situation can be turned around and we can still have one dupe, I mean child, marked as his equal." "Yes, that would have to do!" He exclaimed out loud in glee.

Smiling to himself, Albus thought, "I guess I'll just have to work with what I've got. When life gives you lemons, I guess you just make lemon-drops." With that said Albus marched up to his fireplace, grabbed a bit of floo powder, and disappeared into the green flames. He had a very busy day ahead of himself.

* * *

As Harry Potter stepped through the doorway from Death's realm into the land of the living, he entered a time and a place much different than that of Godric's Hallow in the United Kingdom, year 1981 A.D. Stepping through the portal, his bare foot landed upon hard polished limestone which reflected the light of many dimly glowing reed candles scattered about an inner sanctum of some sort of ceremonial room.

Entering the room fully, Harry twisted his body to look at the doorway he just exited, noticing that the "doorway" seemed to be wavering from existence. As his eyes panned over the doorway, or veil, that floated in the air, he could see into the realm of death. He also noted that above and around the ethereal doorway floating green symbols that seemed to burn with a strange green fire.

Pulling up the memories that Harry had "ingested" from Voldemort's soul fragments, and the knowledge gifted from his "master" Death, he recognized the burning symbols as runes, ancient Egyptian Coptic runes. Further credence was leant to his thoughts as when he panned his head around the room he saw that the walls were covered in rows and rows of hieroglyphics and depictions of the dead being mummified and issued before a being with the head of a jackal and the body of a man. Though the walls were painted with pictures of the dead, dying, and those whose souls were being weighed upon the scales of the Gods, Harry noticed a certain sense of sterility to the place. The entire room was gleaming polished limestone, clear, clean and white.

Harry noted that this room consisted of a strange dichotomy of purity and darkness, what with the paintings of the dead, the pure white limestone, all dimly lit by slightly smoky candles that wafted with a scent of incense; staining the ceiling a bit black with the carbon from the smoke. All together it produced a mysterious air to the room, inspiring an introspection of self yet at the same time inspiring a sense of how insignificant the mortal life is in the scheme of things. Hearing a slight 'whooshing' sound behind him, Harry turned back to the doorway, only to catch the final glimpse of it flutter away, blown away on invisible winds. Immediately behind what had been the doorway that Harry had exited was a gigantic statue of some black polished stone. Now no longer hidden by the door, Harry saw that the statue was immense, but whether it was made from polished black onyx or seamless black granite, Harry didn't know.

At Harry's height, standing on the tall dais in the center of the room, his head was at the collarbone of the giant statute. Looking from the collarbone up, he was intrigued to see that rather than the head of a man, a gleaming black muzzle of a Jackal, two huge emerald eyes, looked down at him. The jackal headed statue had gold inlays around the two fist sized emerald eyes, and on its head was a headdress of the Egyptian pharaohs, made of a patterned mix of white and yellow gold.

Seeing as the dais Harry stood on was 20 feet above the rest of the room, the statute was an absolute behemoth. Its arms were the thickness of Harry's torso, and its legs the size of tree trunks. It held in its hands, by the loops, two Ankhs made of pure deep yellow gold. The statue's arms were cross over its chest as it seemed to look down and into the soul of anybody standing on the dais, and subsequently anybody who walked into the room through the entrance which was in a direct line of sight from the from the statue and over the top of the dais.

/Who are you?/ A voice shouted from behind Harry. Whipping around, Harry saw a bald headed man with a flowing open black robes walk into the room. The man's head was bald with a tattoo of an ankh on his forehead. Black eyeliner or charcoal lined his eyes and swept into curles a the side of his eyes. He was wearing a type of white and gold wrap around his waist, and his black robe split down the middle to show his bare chest. /How did you get in here! What are you doing up there?/

Harry answered back with, "Death sent me." Only, it came out as "/Anubis sent me/" in a language that Harry had never heard before let alone remembered speaking. This instinctual knowledge would take some serious getting used to. It felt to him like he was speaking in English, but now that he thought about it, he had answered back to the man in the same ancient Egyptian Coptic that Harry had been addressed in. /How I got here was through a door, death sent me, and I ended up here./

/Nonsense!/ Screamed the man, his black outlined eyes gleaming with anger, /If Anubis sent you I would know about it, it would be in the Great Book or he would tell me! I am his head priest, only I, Amotep, and the Pharaoh are allowed into this room! His inner sanctum! This is Anubis's most sacred Naos!/ He continued his rant as he marched up the steps to physically remove Harry from Anubis's ceremonial sanctum.

/_HOLD!.../_ Grated a huge voice, as the room shook. Both Harry and the Priest stopped in their movements, and spun to look up at the great statute of Anubis. _/HOLD I say, for I am Anubis, and you will hear me Amotep!/ _said the statue as it seemed to come to life. The sound of stone rubbing and turning as the statue uncrossed its arms and looked down at Harry and the high priest. Taking two huge steps forward, the statue moved right up to the edge of the raised dais. *Boom! Boom*, its steps ushering through the room, shaking the walls and the temple around them. The priest immediately fell to his knees, arms and face prostrated on the floor of the Dias, even Harry was a bit taken aback by the statue's display.

Looking down on Harry and the priest, the emeralds, once stone, took on a lucid appearance. Black pupils that swallowed the light seemed to leak up from the depth of the statue's eyes, the pupil's dilated to blacken out the center of the emeralds, and the eyes looked down at the two small figures on the dais.

_/This is my pup, my pupil, my neophyte, my student, I am Anubis, and you will listen to I…/_ the statue said, with its now prehensile Jackal's tongue licking its chops, which still looked like they were made of polished black stone.

_/You, Amotep, Shall teach this boy, this child, this man, and his name will be known as Saba, the Jackal, for He is of me, is part of I…/ /Teach him the Great Book of the Dead… Teach him about what I have given you, how I have guided you…/ _the statue stated, sounding like a cross of the first whispy voice of death and a booming bellow, all mixed with the strange sound of stone grinding on stone which issued from the Jackal's mouth movements.

/It will be as you say great Anubis, I live to serve./ The Priest said, while remaining prostrated and not raising his head.

The statue shifted its gaze from the priest and focused on Harry /_Have fun … Saba… I will be watching you…/_ And with a wink and a dog like grin, tongue lolling out of the face for a second in a silent laugh, the statue retreated backwards, its booming steps again shaking the foundations of the temple until it assumed its original position and went still.

With the silent laugh and wink foremost in Harry's mind, he stared at the now unmoving statute and thought, "Damn it!" "Death and its stupid sense of humor! This is most likely going to suck!"

/Come Saba, we have much to do to prepare you for your studies./ Said Amotep, interrupting Harry's introspection.

Turning from the statue, the two of them walked down the steps of the dais and towards the exit of the room; Amotep gliding along the floor next to Harry's still naked form, Amotep's flowing black robes billowed behind him like a bat. Strangely it inspired a memory that Harry had absorbed from Voldemort to flash before his mind for the briefest of seconds before Harry focused on walking beside the priest and out of the Naos. Something about grease and bad hygine. "Never mind," Harry thought to himself as he followed the priest.

/First we must take you to the barber, that mop of messy hair simply has to go./ Said the very bald High Priest of Anubis as he guided Harry out of the Naos and into the main temple of Anubis; beginning the first stage of Harry's apprenticeship training in life and death.

"Yep," Harry thought, "This is really going to suck!"


	4. Chapter 4 Of Life And Death

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.

**AN1: I appreciate those who review and I make it a point to reply to every one of them as time allows. Please review, as that is what helps me continue. **

**AN2: A warning, the story is going to get darker from here on out. I'm not a fan of illogical gore and violance, nor am I a fan of gore and violance for the sake of gore and violance. That said, Harry is going to learn to kill and he will be a relatively dark and hardened character as he develops.**

/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_death__death__**death**_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Of Life and Death.**

_Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry._

- Mark Twain

Being shaved bald wasn't a big deal for the average Egyptian. The average Egyptian in ancient times didn't grow much body hair to start with, and that which they did grow tended to be shaved off due to the extreme levels of heat; a common practice in many of the "warmer" parts of the world. The lives of both the elite and poor Egyptian were partially formed around dealing with the heat, and near the Nile, the humidity. The buildings were built of stone or mud, most of them somewhat open so that they could catch any breeze that attempted to pass by them. Similarly, the clothes that the people wore were minimalist at best, open flowing robes that often left arms bare, shaved heads, and wraps for the loins; very much like a kilt but a whole heck of a lot lighter. It wasn't uncommon for the people, both men and women, to go without a top of any sort. However, what might be easy to understand and deal with for a sun bronzed and dark complexioned Egyptian was a totally different story for a pasty white Brit whose scalp and skin had never seen the sun and who was used to temperatures cooler by a good 20 degrees Celsius.

"Yes," Harry thought as the sweat dripped down into his eyes for the hundredth time, "This really DOES suck!" Stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow and off of his polished bald head.

"/Again Saba! Again! Thrust, thrust, deflect with the shield, and thrust over it with the spear! Again! Again!/" yelled Satesh, the temples Head Guard and trainer of the soldiers who protected the complex of Anubis and the graves of the kings and royal magicians.

"/Your shield is too low! Do you want to be leaking soup from your kidneys? Protect your body, use the shield to push your enemy off guard, and then stab the torso! Again I say, or you will be running the circuit of the kings again!/" Again shouted Satesh.

Harry really really didn't want to run the circuit of the kings again. Every morning he had to run from the barracks in the temple, through the main doors, and then 5000 meters, a little more than 3 miles, to the great pyramid that was closest to the temple. Then he had to run around the pyramid, and back again to the temple. The last one of the neophytes or temple guards who made it back to the temple had to run it again. Harry hated running, but he was getting good at it. It seemed that the body development that Death had "gifted" him with was a benefit to him in his training. His training, now that was something that Harry hadn't expected.

When Amotep had first guided Harry out of the Naos he had expected to be trained to do "priestly" things. He had some knowledge about what a Priest to Anubis would do, (pull a brain out of a nose here, mummify a body there, that sort of thing), thanks to his gifts from Death.

Unfortunately, he was beginning to realize that just because he had all of this knowledge it didn't mean he had instantaneous access to it. Yes it was there. Yes it was all sorted in his brain due to his skill in occlumency. However, the sheer magnitude of the knowledge shoved into his head was daunting to go through. He promised himself that he would sort through his "library" of thoughts, but because he hadn't lived all of the knowledge in his head, he didn't really know what he knew, if anybody knows what that means… Basically he was an incredibly knowledgeable and mature infant in a man's body. He had the experiences of life from one dark lord and knew how to use what Voldemort did, a strong and gifted body aged to look almost twenty, and a head packed full of so much knowledge that it would make the Chief Librarians to the libraries of Alexandria and Atlantis drool and offer to have his babies.

However, just because somebody has an incredible amount of knowledge doesn't mean they know what to do with it. It was as if Harry was the most brilliant Einstein in history, yet his lab came equipped with boxes of bolts, screws, filaments, and widgets, and he was expected to use that knowledge to hand build all of his tools before he could get to work using his knowledge to calculate e=mc squared. Frankly, he needed to experience life and gather more understanding of what he had been gifted with before he could ever think to utilize his "blessings." In Harry's case, the mind was willing and able, but the body didn't know what the hell it was doing.

That was Harry's first major hurdle, he had to learn about his body and figure out what it could do. So it was that Amotep introduced Harry to the life he would be living for the foreseeable future. First came the barber… Now that was an interesting experience…

Thinking back to the instance, Harry had been led to the threshold of the temple; a giant gate which was connected to the 30 foot limestone walls that encircled the complex. Buildings were placed along the insides of the walls and in rows through the middle of the complex. It was to one of these buildings next to the gate that Harry went to get his first haircut, the first of many apparently.

"/Saba, this is Tec'man, he will shear your head and then I will give you your tattoo so that you may join the ranks of the Priests. Tec'man, you may begin./" Harry sat down on a two legged stool, it almost looked like a sawhorse, and he turned his back to Tec'man at the barber's motion for Harry to turn around. Taking out oil, Tec'man poured it on Harry's head and worked it into Harry's hair. Harry really wasn't looking forward to this. Frankly, his memories of his home life were of his dad having hair, his Uncle Padfoot having a lot of shaggy hair, and jokes about his uncle Moony having a "furry problem." The only person that Harry "knew" that was bald was Voldemort, So in Harry's mind men were supposed to have hair on their heads. He had never "really" seen a bald man until he met Amotep. Faced with the large curved blade that Tec'man was wielding, he really didn't want his hair to be shaved, and that is where the problems began.

*scrape* Tec'man started at the forehead and drew the curved blade along Harry/Saba's scalp, taking a huge swath of hair out with a quick practiced swipe…

...Only for the hair to grow back out about 3 seconds after Tec'man removed his blade and got ready for the second swipe…

Open eyed, Tec'man looked to Amotep with confusion, one eyebrow raised, before looking down at Harry's head, and putting the blade back to the starting spot and whipping the blade through Harry's hair, taking out an identical swath to the last patch… *Scraaaaapppppeeeeee*

This time the hair grew back even faster…

Sticking out his tongue and biting it, Tec'man stared at Harry's head and scraped the same spot again… and again... and again…

*Scrape!* *grow* … *SCRAPE!**GROW* Finally frustrated beyond belief, Tec'man went all out on the hair that refused to bow to the power of the master barber!

*… SCRAPE!*

"/Ahhh Hah! I got it!/" Tec'man yelled, startling Harry who had been completely oblivious to the entire battle between Hair and Man. After all, Harry had never experienced a haircut before.

Tec'man's statement was just in time for Harry's hair to grow back again.

And Grow… and Grow… and GROW, until he had a band of hair down the center of his head that, if gelled, would form a two foot tall mohawk right down the middle of his head.

Amotep looked at Tec'man. Tec'man looked at Amotep, and then Tec'man lost it.

Ranting and raving Tec'man threw the razor over his shoulder and stormed out of the room. "/By Apophis, that son of Seth! Bah! I give up!/" Tec'man said as he stormed out of the room.

"/Um, is there a problem?/" Harry asked while looking up at Amotep, totally oblivious to the hair that now hung down his left side and down his back.

Amotep looked down at Harry/Saba and tried to fight the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. "/No Saba,/" Amotep stated, "/It is just a gift from Anubis that we will have to deal with. You don't want to be shaved, do you?/"

"/Um, no, not really./" Harry stated, a bit ashamed.

"/That explains it, you have the gift of Anubis. The ability to change your features. You truly are like the Jackal for which you are named, for they are wily and able to blend in or change to suit their environment./" Amotep explained. "/You, as the magi or royal magicians would say, are a metamorph-magi, able to use your magic to change your body./"

Harry was stunned for a second, only to be drawn out by the realization that it was just one more new thing to deal with. Heck, if death didn't startle him all that much, if waking up and finding out you had aged 19 years didn't startle him too much, then learning he could change his body should just be another thing to add to the pile of new weirdness that was his life.

"/So what now, Amotep?/" Harry/Saba questioned.

"/You must be shaved, you must wear the mark of the priesthood if you are to be trained by us, so you have a choice. You can deal with your hair… or I can use my powers over death to deal with it./" Amotep stated, gazing into Harry's eyes. "We will have to teach you about life and your body before we can teach you about death." Harry didn't really know what Amotep meant by "deal with his hair," So he just looked at Amotep with confusion.

Amotep desided to take measures into his own hands. Holding out his hand above Harry's head, Amotep started a groaning sound deep in his throat. A deep guttural soul wrenching sound seemed to utter from Amotep's diaphragm as he closed his hand in a fist over Harry's head, and then with a sudden flinging of his hand open, palm pointed down towards Harry's head he uttered, /Ka'va'da!/ To which a green kind of sandy powder seemed to materialize out of his hand and settle on Harry's hair.

Harry's black and rich hair, with the mohawk in the middle, aged in a second... turning brittle and grey, and then withering to nothing and blowing away on a wind that shouldn't exist in an enclosed room. Harry was left with a bald and shiny white head, unblemished in its roundness.

"/There Saba, now you can begin your training/" Amotep stated with a slap to Harry's forehead, Harry immediately felt a burning cold sensation on his head, and then the senation was gone.

"/Here, have a look./" Amotep said, handing Harry/Saba a polished piece of metal that served place as a mirror.

Harry looked at his face and head and was surprised to see the figure of an Ankh emblazoned on his head in the same light swallowing black as the tattoo on his back. The dark of the Ankh a stark contrast to Harry's very green eyes and very white skin.

/Now you begin your training Saba. For you must first learn how to live and control your body before you can learn to control the soul and that which is death./ And with that, Amotep led the now bald Harry Potter, known as Saba in that time period, out of the room and to the beginning of his training.

* * *

And train Harry did, both night and day. Do this Saba! Do that Saba! The first few days had been very harsh. Not to say that Harry didn't have the muscle growth to deal with it, no, he was very fit and strong.

The first month was a period of learning to grow into his body; learning to use his legs to run, but also to use them to break kneecaps. Learning to use his hands to write the script and runes of the times, but also how to use his hands like a claw to tear out windpipes and to thrust a spear or a sword through the ribs of his enemies. For the priests of Anubis were also the guardians of the pathways of the dead, meaning they protected the graves of the great Pharaohs and the royal magicians from those who would steal from their burial hordes. He spent his days training his body, and his nights were spent in introspection and meditation at the gates of the mounds, both learning to traverse the pathways of his mind and map the memories and thoughts that he had been gifted, as well as protecting the graves of the dead from those who would rob them.

Beyond the sun burns and sweat of the first days, Harry had grown in skill, advancing at a pace that was unheard of in the ranks of the temple guards and priestly initiates. His days were filled with using his skills to their full extent. The Head Guard was also a metamorph-magi, so Satesh was able to guide Harry in how to change his body mass so that it could be sleeker for long distance speed or denser for short bursts of strength to overwhelm an enemy. Though no matter how Harry learned to change and grow his body, the Spell that Amotep had to cast on Harry's head seemed to have burned out all of the hair follicles, rendering the dead matter that is hair unable to grow on his scalp. He did not know if he would ever be able to grow his hair back again, but he figured Death may have an answer to that the next time they chatted.

So it was that Harry trained, trained hard for half a year, all without learning anything about controlling souls or dealing with death; other than the art of killing that is. So it was that Harry was on the field, sparring against a reed filled dummy for his 4th hour in a row in the hot hot Egyptian sun.

"/Again Saba! Again! Thrust, thrust, deflect with the shield, and thrust over it with the spear! Again! Again!/" yelled Satesh, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

"/Enough!/" Said Amotep, walking between the pillars and out into the sandy practice grounds. "/It is time for you to read the Book of the Dead. It is time for you to fully learn the secrets that Death has gifted us. Come./" With that, Amotep turned around, assuming that Harry would follow him back into the temple's main chambers and in the direction of the Naos.

Which is exactly what Harry did, dropping the spear and shield where he stood and trotted to catch up with Amotep.

* * *

Entering the main chambers of the temple, Amotep and Harry proceeded towards the Naos. At the entrance to the Naos was a pool of water sunk into the stonework, forcing any who would enter the Naos to enter the pool and wade through the water that would go up to their neck; ceremonially cleaning all who would attempt to seek to commune with Anubis.

The cold water felt refreshing to Harry as he waded into the water and through the pool; a nice respite from his training in the sun. Passing out of the pool, with his wrap still dripping, he followed into the Naos and before the statue of Anubis. However, instead of walking up the steps of the dais, Harry followed Amotep around the back of the stone feature, and at the base of the structure (between the feet of the black statue and raised dais) rested a hole with a ladder disappearing into its dark depths.

Amotep reached to the back of the dais and removed the reed candle that was placed there. Turning to Harry he said, "/Take this candle Saba and follow the ladder down. When you get there, confront the Book of the Dead and learn the lessons that have been passed down to the Priests./" Giving Harry an appraising look he continued, "/If I should see you again, then we shall see what changes death has wrot upon you. Good luck.../"

With that, Harry took the candle and descended the ladder into the darkness.

* * *

Descending a ladder while attempting to keep a reed candle lit is a daunting task. However, that challenge was no where near as daunting as what faced Harry when he reached the bottom of the ladder. As Harry descended he saw that he had left behind the smooth cut stone of the temple structure and had entered a natural looking cave made of what looked like bones. Closer inspection with the candle showed Harry that it was really white sandstone that had been chisled by seeping water and compressed sand from the desert that surrounded the temple complex. The skeletal structure of the natural cave was eerie in both its natural formation and that for the images that it inspired in Harry's mind. The fact that the stone was made of sand didn't seem to make him feel much better however, as the candle cast little light and the darkness of the cave seemed to steal what meager light the candle was able to give out. Walking around the cavern, Harry saw that a corridor seemed to lead farther into the ground. Seeing as that was the only way to go, Harry followed it, candle leading the way.

Coming around a corner, Harry was confronted with a dead end. But it wasn't the dead end that caught his attention. Right at the apex of the far wall, the final point of the corridor, rested what looked like a book resting on a pedestal or lectern. The darkness made it hard for him to pick up any details, so he was forced to get closer; he could only assume that this was the Gook of the Dead.

Issuing closer to the book, Harry realized that it was a disgusting sight; the book seemed to be breathing...

Examining the book, yet not touching it, he saw that the cover seemed to be made out of skin. It appeared as if the face of some poor individual had been scraped off of their frame and formed into the front cover of the book, the "hardcover" aspect made from the pounded, flattened, and shaped skull of the individual. The binding was the vertebrae and notches of the spine, and it appeared as if tendons and veins of blood bound the cover to the pages inside; which appeared to be made of individually overlapped layers of tissue or skin. A clasp seemed to keep the book locked, the interweaved bones of the hands used as locks to keep the book from being read.

That was only the book, for the stand seemed to be made up of the rest of the body of the poor soul... that or made from multiple body parts of different individuals tied together in some sort of frankenstein-esk formation for holding the book... A beating heart was firmly held in the center of the pedestal with blood clearly being circulated through veins that marbled the fleshy pedestal from floor to ceiling.

Taking a gulp, Harry stepped forward and rested his hand on the latching fingers, attempting to gently pry them open... only for a sudden scream to wrench the air around him.

The face on the book came alive, screaming its proverbial head off... It uttered a ghastly wind and wale that immediately snuffed out Harry's candle and pitched him into darkness.

But the scream continued, uttering its lonesome call, raising in pitch, and with it a pallid grayish-green light began to issue from the book. Slightly illuminating the end of the corridor with the eerie light, the book flung itself open, still screaming the whole time... The hands that had once been clasped now lay attached to the front and back covers of the open book, and seemed to twitch... The bony hands repeatedly clenching and unclenching into fists as the book sprung open and the pages began to flip as if turned by some invisible force or some unseen wind.

Twitching, twitching, the hands seemed to captivate Harry's eyes... "Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Harry thought, Taking a step back away from the book, he figured it would be safer to head back for the ladder... but it was too late...

Exploding from the book with a splattering of ichors, the hands that had held the book closed became skeletal arms which reached out and grabbed Harry by the sides of his head. As fast as they had exploded from the book, they quickly retreated into the book, bringing Harry's whole body with them, literally picking him up by his head and off of his feet.

Making a sick sort of sucking sound, the pages seemed to eat Harry head first; Harry now joining in the scream of terror as he was swallowed by the pages of the book...

Finally with Harry's feet disappearing into the pages of the book, the cover suddenly shut, and all was quite...

The cover was closed, a muffled burp* was heard, and then the face became still, the skeletal hands once again clasped together locking the book shut. The light that had been issuing from the book faded back into the darkness.

In the cavern beneath the Naos, all was still and quiet. There was no sign of Harry Potter, only the Book of the Dead was left, resting in the dark; its heart steadily beating...

* * *

**AN: So there is the next chapter. A fair warning that this story is going to get darker as it goes along. I didn't think it made sense to have somebody go from baby to emotionless in the face of death, so it will be a progression. Please, please, please review. I am attempting to become a better writer with each work and each chapter, so please take the time to write something, even if its criticism. As I've said before. More reviews equal more chapters if you like it, and if you don't like it, more such reviews equals less chapters. Best wishes.**


	5. Chapter 5: Getting to the Guts

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it and receives all profits from anything derived from that universe. I receive no monetary gain from this work of fiction.

**AN: Ok, so the action should be picking up more in this chapter. I haven't forgotten about this story, I've just been focusing on Freak of Nature as I was/am really enjoying writing it. I appreciate those who take the time to review my stories, as they inspire me to think about what comes next in the story. I don't have the longest attention span in the world, so it helps when people remind me of why I was enjoying a story that I was writing. This inspires me to write more in it, so, for me more reviews does equate to more writing. Just a thought, and on with the story.**

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* * *

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/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_death__death__**death**_

**Chapter 5: Getting to the Guts of the Matter**

"Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?"

William Shakespeare

Tumbling, rolling, squeezed through a tube; Harry Potter was swallowed by the Book of the Dead. Known by some as the Necronomicon, spoken about in hushed tones in dark corners in the time that Harry Potter had originated from, the book was more than just a simple book; it was Alive. More so than alive though, it was undead. Made from the very flesh of the first priests of Anubis, history's first necromancers and practitioners of the ritual blood and soul magics, the book and pedestal was their method of eternal existence, for each of them had submitted a body part to its making. It was this book, made from undying flesh, which was swallowing Harry.

Pressed between a constricting tube of red-veined cartilage and flesh, he felt like he was being crushed! Concentric rings of tissue flexed and squeezed, pushing Harry deeper into the carcass as if he was being squeezed from a tube of toothpaste. It was painful. The tube was backlit with some sort of golden yet sickly light, and he felt like he was suffocating as he was constricted and crushed through the tube… only to squirt out the end and fall 20 feet to land on some sort of fleshy squishy surface.

Harry stood up and looked around at the "chamber" that he found himself in. Above him and out of reach, he could see the esophageal sphincter that had closed off and locked him in this room. Looking around, he noticed that he couldn't seem to see the very edges of the chamber as the backlit light only seemed to illuminate the center of the room where Harry had landed. Slowly, Harry could hear a beating sound, Thud thud, Thud thud, Thud thud… Continuous and rhythmic, like the deep beating of a drum. Looking up at what he could see, he noticed that the fluid in the "veins" seemed to flow with the sound of the thumping noise. Otherwise, the room was completely silent.

"Um, Hello? Is anybody there? What happens next?" Harry questioned as he turned around in a circle and looked out into the darkness that was all around him.

"Next?" A voice issued out of the darkness and met Harry's ears. "There is no Next, there is only now." With that, a figure stepped out of the shadows, covered in a large dark cloak that split open to show the chest of a man with an Egyptian wrap around his waist and a black leather necklace with an ankh on it. The figure's chest was bear, but the Hood of the black cloak shadowed the face from the light that came down from above, the only thing that could be seen from the shadows were two glowing green eyes. "There won't be any next if you don't survive this," The figure continued, "And there definitely won't be a next for a while due to the fact that you probably won't stop me from devouring you." The figure said as it started to circle Harry, staying just within the edge of the lighted circle.

"What are you talking about? What is this place?" Harry said, turning to keep the figure in front of him.

"This is your test, boy, this is your training. You will either survive this and return to the temple above stronger and further aged by the knowledge of death and life, or you will die and become food for the book, food for our form." The figure said, a white smile now gleaming through the shadows, eerily painted under the still glowing green eyes. The man continued to pace around Harry as if he were a predator circling his prey.

"You won't take me so easily!" Harry said with menace as he crouched down and called upon his knowledge from Voldemort. He might not have a wand, but then again, by absorbing the elder wand and gifting it back to death, Harry Potter no longer needed a wand, it wasn't even wandless magic, Harry Potter was his own magical core! Calling up a ghastly curse that would turn the man inside out and skin him alive, Harry's hands rimmed over in a dark purple light which shot out in two beams at the pacing figure!

"You won't devour me!" Harry cried out as he shot the spell!

Only for Harry's magical attack to be absorbed into the hand of the pacing malignant figure! "Tut Tut boy, that won't work on me in here!" The figure said with a smirk.

Harry was shocked, and in that moment of inattention, the figure struck!

Seeming to disappear and then appear right in front of Harry, the figure grabbed Harry's Hands and pulled them apart. Staring into Harry's eyes with that same smirk, the figure took in a big breath, and then seemed to exhale a fog of green smoke and transcendental light! Still smirking at the now struggling Harry, the smoke covered Harry's head, where it forced itself into Harry's nose and now silently screaming mouth. At which point, Harry blacked out…

* * *

/"Saba! Saba Wake up!"/ said a voice accompanied by a rough hand that grabbed him and shook him awake. Harry startled and came awake, seeing that he was inside of a tent. An Egyptian man stood in front of him, garbed and armored with a leather breastplate, spear and shield held in the hand that hadn't shaken Harry awake.

"/Wha…What's going on?/" Harry said in confusion.

/"Quickly Saba, We don't have time to wait! The Sumerians are attacking and they have breached the perimeter in the dark and there are no guards to stop them! Come quickly or we will all die!"/ The man exclaimed, fright clearly present on his face, then turned and rushed out of the tent! It was then that Harry heard the clashing and screams of battle through the walls of the tent!

Harry stepped out of the tent, only to narrowly dodge a fist sized sling stone that whizzed by his head! All around him he heard the sounds of fighting and dying! Turning to the right and in the direction that the stone had flown from, he saw a series of sling wielding throwers pelting rocks at the three men struggling with the six cone helmeted Sumerian soldiers in front of his tent. Two of the Egyptian's soldiers were quickly cut down by the large flying stones as they struck the men in their heads! The other one was then ganged up on by the other Sumerians and quickly stabbed to death by their thrusting spears! Turning towards Harry, the Sumerian's saw him and yelled out a battle cry, charging him!

It was then that Harry realized that he was unarmed…

Quickly coming out of his stupor, He dodged the first man to get to him, sliding to the right and knocking the spear off of target with the outside of his left hand; causing it to just skirt by the left side of his stomach! Grabbing the man's spear arm with Harry's right, Harry slid around so his back was to the man's chest, and then used the leverage of the man's arm to fling him over Harry's shoulder, off of the ground and into four of the other onrushing soldiers!

Fortunately the body of the man hit the others and tumbled them to the ground in a knotted pile of squirming men, all too driven to skewer Harry to successfully work together to get up!

Scooping to grab a spear of the thrown man, and luckily dodging under the thrust of the last standing soldier, Harry herd a satisfying *Thump* as the sling stone meant for his head hit the sixth Sumerian in the chest; no doubt cracking the man's unarmored sternum and causing him to fall to the ground!

Realizing that it was stupid to bring a spear to a sling fight, Harry remembered he was a wizard! Harry threw out his hand and a shimmering appeared in a dome around him and seeming to harden the air, immediately casting a stationary bubble of protection which two sling stones proceeded to bounce off of.

Turning to the pile of 5 men who were getting to their feet, now a bit unsure of what to do about the apparent "Magi" they were fighting, Harry decided to strike first!

"Expulso!" Harry cried, both hands thrusting towards the pile of men and causing two spells to fly out of his two hands!

*BOOOOM!* Each spell clipped two of the Sumerians in front of Harry, causing four of them to explode in a combined explosion that blasted the tent to Harry's left into smithereens and caused his shield of air to patter with the sounds of bits of bone and flesh that struck it. The fifth soldier that had been in the pile was unconscious to Harry's right, blood clearly pouring from his ears and nose!

Green eyes then turned towards the slingers who had been trying to sneak a projectile at Harry while he was dealing with the soldiers. *Snapping* the fingers on both of his hands, Harry glared at the stone throwers as streaks of purple-fire flew out his hands and struck two of the men on the rise! Suddenly they began to scream in agony as internal fires caused their organs to boil and burst from heat and pressure!

The third, and only remaining, stone thrower turned and ran away screaming! Yelling something totally unintelligible to Harry's ears. Harry took off running towards where he heard fighting behind him, content to let the man run away, which Harry was to learn was a big mistake…

Harry had taken about eight running steps when he was surprised by a *ROOOAAAAARRRR!* behind him!

Turning and looking back at the ridge where the stone slingers had been, Harry saw three Nemean Lions which were obviously on the hunt!

Throwing his arm out in a wide circle, Harry cast a silent Diffindo that shot out of his hand like a red scythe of death!... only to hit the lions and have absolutely no effect!

Well, absolutely no affect other than to target them on Harry and piss them off!

"Eep!" Harry said as he saw the effect of his spell and the three sets of golden eyes turn to focus on him with a growl!

Harry turned and ran! Jumping over now burning tents, over corpses of Egyptian and Sumerian alike, running as fast as he could in the opposite direction of where the lions where! The lions who Harry could hear huffing behind him in fast pursuit!

Harry didn't take a chance to look behind, but he tried everything he could to slow down or take out the lions behind him! He transfigured one tent into a Devil's Snare, a body into a row of spikes! He conjured walls of stone behind him, and pillars to break up his line of sight, but those lions just carved a straight path after him!

Claws sharper than any human sword and a hide that was impervious to being cut plowed a straight path after Harry! They were like three independent buzz-saws that hacked and slashed through anything in their path!

Skidding around a corner of a tent, just as one of the lions took a leap for Harry and missed, Harry took off down another row of tents! About 25 feet in front of him he saw a Sumerian step out of a tent and turn to block his path, the Sumerian's spear dripping blood and pointed towards Harry! Harry heard one of the lions follow him down the path and gain ground on him, so he kept charging towards the Sumerian, who now spread his feet apart and braced himself to meet Harry's charge!

About five feet in front of the Sumerian, Harry heard the lion behind him give a little growl and its breathing changed! Eye's going large, Harry dived forward!... Sliding right between the Sumerian's spread legs and underneath the lion who had just attempted to pounce on Harry's back!

The silence and lack of stabbing in the back surprised Harry as he slid out from under the Sumerian. Standing up shakily, and turning around, He noted that both the Sumerian and the Lion were lying on the ground dead. The lion's claws had punctured right through the Sumerian's chest; where as the spear of the Sumerian could clearly be seen to disappear into the mouth of the Nemean lion!

Taking a deep breath and coming to stand completely up, Harry heard a growl and looked up. There at the end of the row were the two other lions!

"Shit!" Harry said as he turned and ran north through the tents, once again creating a zigzagged path through the debris of battle, "What does it take to lose these guys!" He panted as he ran for his life. The only sound he could hear were the lions behind him, as it sounded like the fighting had ended…

Skidding around the corner of the last tent of the Egyptian army's campsite and coming out into the open, Harry came to a screeching halt!

There, displayed in front of him were the corpses of a majority of the Egyptian army; in front of him, to his right, and to his left was the whole host of the Sumerian forces. Thousands and thousands of soldiers were arrayed as they stripped the bodies of the Egyptians and prepared to pillage the camp. Smoke issued up from the town in the distance, as Harry saw the Sumerians had already started raiding it a well.

Seeing one Egyptian alive, hundreds of the Sumerians gave a feral grin and hefted their shields and their spears! Sling throwers and archers in the back ranks loaded their weapons and began to swing their slings or pull their bows on the off chance that Harry got away from the thousands of troops surrounding him!

Slowly backing up towards the tent, Harry's retreat was stopped by a low growl, as the lions came out from among the tents and cut off Harry's escape route.

"Well shit!" Harry said to himself… and then it was as if the world slowed down to a halt. The Sumerian's advance seemed to halt as feet seemed to hang in the air mid-step. The lion's prowl was interrupted as open mouthed growls made no sound and seemed to freeze in mid-curl of the lip. Even the flies that had been feasting on the dead didn't seem to move, their wings staying still in midflight.

_I gave the first brother the power of the stone, the power to call upon the souls of the dead... I give you greater power, to call on the souls of the dead and the power to mold those souls and dead to your wishes… I want you to use my gifts… _The voice of Death directed Harry, as if speaking in his head.

Harry's eyes went cold, and he nodded in acceptance. Time sped up to its normal passage, and Harry's visage went hard.

*Stomp!* Harry picked up his foot and smacked it back down into the earth, causing a wall of dust and wind to swirl up around him and expand out into the forces around him and pushing them back for a second!

Totally silent, Harry's eyes started to glow a deep green, as if lit by fire from behind his eyes. Ethereal flames flickered out of his eyes and green flame seemed to start to grow, spread, and seep out of his body until he was limned over in it.

A Shout went up from the Sumerians as they knew they were facing a magic user! Quick as they could, they charged Harry! Every archer and sling thrower launched their projectile at Harry, the lions pounced, and the soldiers threw their spears or attempted to get to him before he could cast his magic… But it was too late!

*CLAAAAPPPP!* Harry smacked his hands together in what sounded like a thunderclap, and then threw his hands wide to the sides! An explosion of power flew from Harry in a concentric blast wave, blasting the soldiers and lions around him off of their feet and sending them tumbling and rolling over each other! Arrows and stones the size of baby's heads that had been flying at Harry reversed direction and flew outwards from the blast wave, and the forces that had been charging him tumbled into a seething mass of chaos!

Pointing his hands to the sky, Harry screamed out in Rage! How dare they try to kill him! He had already died once, and these enemies who for no reason known to Harry had killed the men around him, for no reason had attempted to kill him, would feel his Rage!

"AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" Harry cried out, bringing both of his hands to his chest and then throwing them into the air above his head!

Black fire seemed to erupt from his hands, licking down his body, and then fly straight up into the air a hundred feet, where it seemed to create a vortex into some dark realm. The vortex swirled and opened, until black balls of fire seemed to shoot out of the vortex and fly out into the masses of bodies laid out around Harry and throughout the camp. Though where the black fire landed, there appeared to be no reaction, that is, until the people started to get up off the ground.

The first people to get up off the ground were not the sling throwers in the back, nor where they the ranks of the archers. It wasn't the Sumerians who had their shields equipped and had been able to block some of the wave of power that had swept out from Harry, nor was it even the mighty lions. No, the first figures to rise up around Harry after he had knocked them off their feet and opened the vortex, were the Dead.

The black fire had flown out from the vortex and had flown right through the Sumerian's scattered around the plains and disappeared into the soulless bodies of the dead Egyptian's scattered about the field.

Rising from the ground as if pulled up by the strings of an invisible puppet-master, their eyes and mouths open in a black fiery stare, the dead floated from the ground where they lay until they were hovering above the ground.

Immediately the Sumerian's let out a groan as a palpable sense of fear inducing mist seemed to suck all of the life and energy out of the world around them. Moaning in the hissing grating voices of the damned, the animated soulless corpses turned their gaze to focus on the Sumerians and the lions in their midst... The sun seemed to fade from the world as if covered by invisible clouds, and as the world seemed to darken, the Sumerians were doomed. Harry Potter, known as Saba to the Egyptians, had not created inferni, Harry Potter had created Dementors.

Pointing towards the lions, six Dementors swooped down on them and pulled them up, high into the air. Though the lions struggled, bit and slashed, though bits of flesh were torn and rendered off of the dark beings that pulled the lions into the air, the lions could not get the now boney hands to release them. Though animals are mostly immune to the Dementor's presence, they aren't immune to being dropped from very high heights when said Dementors let them go. The fall from over 300 feet in the air crushed bones and punctured lungs and other vital organs in the Nemean lions, for though their hides were immune to being punctured, their innards were not.

After Harry's silent instruction towards the Dementors to finish off the lions, he turned towards the army before him and let his new creation feast.

Most of the Sumerians who had been on the plains before Harry passed out from their proximity to the Dementors, especially those Sumerians who had been in the process of looting said former corpses. On top of that reaction, the Dementors began to go into a feeding frenzy!

Harry had made the beings through the power of death's magic, but he had used the flesh of bodies whose souls were no longer present. It was for their souls that the beings hungered, and if they couldn't have their old souls back, then they would have to get it from the enemy that had originally killed them.

Reaching out their dead hands around them, the Dementors began to administer the "kiss" to as many of the army around them as they could. Their thirst and hunger for souls was unquenchable, and even the stabbing blades of the few brave Sumerians who remained conscious was not enough to halt the Dementors in their quest to suck out their enemy's souls.

All through the action, Harry just stood there, a smile on his face. His countenance was totally uncaring for the suffering taking part around him, as his once tormentors were now food for his creation. "It is nice to be the victor instead of the crushed, it is nice to be the predator instead of the prey" He thought to himself with a slight verbal chuckle.

After a time the Dementors finished their slaughter, leaving the field filled with the soulless bodies of the once strong, once conquering, army of Sumerians. Turning to float towards Harry, the army of Dementors circled around him, floating in a weaving sphere around Harry and over the army of "vegetables." They all stared at Harry quietly as they flew around him, seemingly having no affect on the young man.

"Behold, the once mighty army laid bare!" Harry said with a dark laugh, a smirk painted beneath his glowing green eyes. "Go my children, do as you please, it is all the same when it comes to death. I am sure that we will meet again."

With a wave of his hand a dark cloak formed over him, shadowing Harry's face and leaving the only thing that could be seen two glowing green eyes and a white toothed smile beneath it. As the Dementors floated away, the world around Harry seemed to fade out of existence.

* * *

As the world came back into clarity around him, Harry found himself again in the chamber at the heart of the Book of the Dead. The figure that now matched Harry's garbed body stood before him, green eyes and smile beaming from within the shadows of his cloak; grinning straight back at Harry.

"Good, I knew you had it in you." the figure said, removing his hood to show a mirror reflection of Harry, but wearing the necklace of the ankh and looking to be about the age of 30. "You have passed the test, and so you may have our knowledge. But know, just as death ages you, so the knowledge that we give you will age your body." The figure said, and with that, it stepped up to Harry and turned into mist that quickly seemed to mesh with Harry's being.

Harry's brain felt full, as his body rocked back with the absorption of the mist. In his mind he saw the formation of runes that would awaken the souls of the dead. He could build armies of undead creatures, raise animals and humans alike, and even animate bodies made from the limbs and parts severed from different beings then formed into one entity. He realized that his hands knew the signals of blood, the carving of bodies that would strengthen, would weaken, would torture or heal; blood magic that would protect, or that which would kill, was all in his head. Even more powerful, he knew the Egyptian methods for immortality, the formation of the horcrux and the soul container, both the easy method based on the death of innocents, and the harder method spent through meditation and years of introspection. He could exorcise ghosts, and calm the irate dead. All together, he had the mastery of blood, necromantic, and soul magic, and the ability to use it ingrained in his body.

However a price had been paid. When he had absorbed the knowledge of the Book of the Dead, he had aged. Looking down at his hands, and feeling his face, Harry realized that he had put on about 10 years of growth. Gone was the boyish looks of the late teen, here was the hardness of a thirty year old master of death, blood, and the pathways of the dead. Feeling his chest and looking himself over, He was surprised to see himself wearing the dark robe of the figure, even the necklace with the Ankh hung from his neck.

"But how is this possible?" Harry thought to himself. As if in answer, as soon as he thought it the answer appeared there in his head. When the book took him within it, into its beating heart and accepted him as passing the test, Harry became part of it, just another organ or tissue for the being of the whole. What the book knew, Harry now knew, for at the moment Harry was the Book of the Dead.

"Wicked!" Harry said to himself, and then looked around himself, "Um, what now?" He said out loud, only to be answered by a strange sucking noise that issued from above him.

Looking up, Harry saw the esophagus above him open. Uttering the first thing to come to mind, "Oh hell no!" Harry was sucked up into the air, back up through the crushing tube, only to be vomited out of the Book of the Dead and launched through the air into the chamber before it.

Rolling head over heels, Harry came to rest with his back against the wall, and his feet above his head. "That bloody sucked…" Harry grumbled to himself as he righted himself and dusted himself off. Looking back at the book, he was struck by the magic that would allow a full human being to be swallowed by a book that appeared to be light enough to be picked up and carried. That is if somebody would ever consider picking up a book that was growing out of the top of a pedestal made from a living human being. Even more striking to Harry was the fact that he could see in what was apparently the now pitch dark cavern. "It's strange what grabs your attention when you get used to the weird," Harry thought to himself.

Walking back through the dark cavern, Harry made his way back to the ladder and climbed his way back up to the Naos.

* * *

Climbing out of the pit behind the dais, Harry entered back into the lit Naos.

"/I see you survived. I had to wonder as you took longer than any before you have ever been down there./" Said Amotep as he stood waiting.

"/What do you mean?/" Harry questioned with a tilt of his head, "/I was only gone for an hour or two./" he continued.

"/No Saba, you were gone for three days./" Amotep told him with an amused air and raised eyebrow.

Speechless for a second, Harry took a minute to contemplate his new knowledge and figure out what to do next. Stumped, he decided to ask Amotep. "/What am I to do next?/" He asked.

"_/You come back to US for now…__/" _Came the same wispy stone grinding voice of Anubis that had issue Harry into the land of Ancient Egypt.

Looking straight up at the statue that towered over the two men, they saw its head flare to life and rotate to look down at them.

Upon seeing the statue come to life, Amotep immediately bowed and prostrated himself before the statue of his god, where as Harry just looked amused.

"_/I am pleased with you Saba…/" "__/It is time that you came back with US to our realm apprentice…/" _Death/Anubis stated. Unclenching its arms from across its chest, it pointed towards a spot next to Harry and a doorway, with green burning glyphs floating around it, appeared beside him.

"/Thank you for teaching me Amotep, I won't forget the lessons you provided./" Harry said as he stepped up to the door. Then, without another look back, Harry Potter stepped through the door to Death's realm, and disappeared.

"/Goodbye Saba./" Amotep's voice echoed around the room that was empty except for the statue of Anubis; the statue that returned to its original position and became stone again.

* * *

**AN: Well, there is the first lesson of the three main ones that Harry will learn before he goes back to his proper time and the UK. I have to say that I really appreciate people's reviews and that they have been a big inspiration in getting me to post on my other in-progress story "Freak of Nature." I appreciate people's comments as I in no way have this story completely planned out, and I am letting it write itself as it goes along. Your comments and reviews definitely help get my creative juices going and help inspire me to put in time at the keyboard to type these stories. Anyway, best wishes, and thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Many Forms of Death

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN: Wow, it's been more than two months since I updated. I sincerely apologize because I, as a reader of other works, understand how frustrated I get when I get into a story and the author doesn't update it. With that said I have been really enjoying writing Freak of Nature and I have to be in the right mood to write. No excuses are ever good enough for the readers who wait for a chapter, I understand that, but real life and especially work have been kicking my arse and keeping me from getting the time or mood to write this story. I'm trying to make amends for that by picking up the story again. **

**Warning about the chapter: I think it is only fair to warn the reader that this will not be a happy chapter. Death holds many emotional responses for humans; it's in this chapter that Harry learns those lessons. I in no way want to lessen the blow that is the death of a loved one, or mock the death of a child or innocent, but please note that death is not fair when it comes upon us. Ultimately we are all equal in that we will all eventually die, and it is impossible to live our lives without being touched by death in some way. On that happy note, you've been warned.**

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* * *

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/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_Death__death__**death**_

**Chapter 6: The Many Forms of Death**

"To you who have never died, may I say: Welcome to the world!" ~ Clive Barker

Harry stepped through the portal into Death's realm, noticing that once had been an indistinct gray world of swirling mists, twirling shadows, and flitting smoke was now starting to show shadowy features. Claw like trees, hills, and scraggly bushes surrounded Harry as mist still filtered about the ground and obscured vision on the far horizon. In the distance Harry could make out the shadowed presence of a cityscape with its tall sky scrapers chimneys and gothic buttresses and cathedrals disappearing and appearing through the fog.

As Harry walked forward, he realized that his cloak and Egyptian robes seemed to phase right through the bushes around him, and he noticed that his feet did not kick up any sort of dust or dirt from the bare ground upon which he walked.

"Hmmm," Harry said to himself as he ghosted his hand through the trunk of a dead tree, "This is different."

Looking around his surroundings, Harry decided to proceed up the hill before him, hoping to get a better view of the ghostly city that lay in the distance.

As he crested the peak of the steep hill he saw that between him and the distant city was a vast valley, shadowed and dark as if the light was captured by the hills surrounding it, keeping the low lands in darkness.

_**Beautiful, isn't it?**_ Death's voice wafted on the breeze beside him as the smoke and mists seemed to form a nebulous form next to him.

Harry turned his head to the right and examined the forming mists. Still swirling, growing and shrinking in no understandable pattern was what must have been the humanoid form of death. First tall, then short, first giving hints of masculinity, then femininity, it constantly shifted forms and dimensions; it was as if somebody had tried to make an impressionistic painting of a human made out of shadows, smoke and mist come to life.

Looking out over the valley and away from Death's somewhat transparent form, Harry quirked his head to the side in though.

"It inspires both a strange feeling of both fear and peace," Harry slowly stated as the thoughts formed in his mind. "It has something that draws me to it, yet at the same time it makes me want to stay away from it."

_Ha ha ha, I understand…__There are many aspects to us…__** We inspire many different feelings in mortals, not that you are necessarily mortal any more…**_

Harry merely quirked his eyebrow as he briefly looked at Death in question as to what it meant by that statement.

In turn, Death turned its head towards Harry.

_It is impossible to fully explain how I exist or the beauty that is Death…__It is time that you join us in our work…__**Come, we have work to do.**_ Death stated.

With that stated, the form of Death laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and then its form was sucked into the swirling winds that rose out of the valley of the shadow of death.

As the smoke seemed to be drawn away from Harry and towards the valley, he felt a coldness in his body and looked to where Death had touched him. Slowly, bit by bit, particle by particle, the wind dissolved Harry's shoulder into swirling smoke and mist. He only had a chance for his eyes to grow large before the rest of his body blew away on the winds to join the swirls of death.

* * *

Joy, pain, sorrow, and peace were the mix of emotions displayed on the faces of the family members who surrounded the bed of, what Harry assumed, was their patriarch. An old woman sat in a chair holding her dying husband's hand as the machines in the hospital room showed the breathing and heart rate of the old man; his hand spotted and almost skeletal as the diseases he fought had obviously ravaged his once hale body.

"Goodbye my love," whispered the old man as he gazed at his wife.

"Goodbye darling, I'll see you soon." She replied as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead and then his lips, her tears falling to wet his face.

He never felt the water from her eyes, as he was gone. With his passing, Harry and death too moved on.

* * *

A child lay broken on the street, the carriage that had run over her chest continued in a rush down the path between the fields, oblivious or uncaring in its inhabitant's actions.

Harry watched as a poor women, smeared with mud from working in the fields screamed as she realized that her daughter's body was broken. Besmudged work torn hands cradled the child and a voice ravaged by constant exposure to the wind and the rain screamed curses at the sky and at the drivers and inhabitants of the carriage, but her cries of agony and for revenge went unheeded.

Harry attempted to reach out for her, but his ghostly hand merely drifted around the woman. It was not her time to meet death, and Harry's touch did not comfort her.

Death brought Harry again to another scene.

* * *

An avalanche of mud and toxic fumes flew from the silent expulsion of the volcano and swiftly towards the small village. A village that had no name on any map, but was loved and lived in by families for generation after generation. A village that disappeared that night with a whisper of deadly gases and rumbling mud.

Still Death dragged Harry onwards through its grisly work.

* * *

This time it was a murder scene, the victims begging for mercy.

Then an epidemic that came with rats off the ship, killing the wildlife of the island as well as the humans, leaving no mercy for any living inhabitant of the Polynesian isle.

Followed by the starvation of a child…

Then the death of the old, put out into the snow because they weren't of any use for the village.

Death after death spilled before Harry's eyes, faster and faster it went.

Starvation, choking, electrocution, stabbing, blood loss, old age, abuse, neglect, disease, famine, war, and death by pestilence all blurred before his eyes. Those were just the mundane deaths.

Curses of every imaginable kind were used, and life after life was snuffed out. Even spells that were deemed "light" could kill.

Old spells of power, a spell that destroyed only the darkness in a person's soul, but which left a half hearted husk, as no person was fully light.

New spells of darkness, the killing curse and the curse that caused the wounded on the battlefield to explode in a cataclysm of blood and boney shrapnel, wounding and killing those lying around the newly deceased.

Death after death after death flew before his eyes, and Harry found himself weeping.

Deep soulful tears, as any innocence and wonder at life seemed to be sapped from Harry's life, as he saw every imaginable horrible or wonderful death that could come to be, pass before his eyes.

It was a constant blur, and Harry sobbed, deep soul wrenching tears as he cried and cried at the agony he saw, the pain that mankind had created in addition to that which is a natural death.

When he no longer had tears to cry, his tear ducts raw from the passage of salty water, he began to shed blood from his eyes.

* * *

Suddenly it was over, Harry found himself in a tower overlooking a city made of tombs, ornate catacomb entrances and the rising smoke of crematoriums, the city of the dead.

Harry looked up at the faceless man dressed in a black Armani suit with sanguine shirt and crimson blood red tie. The black pits that were the faceless man's eyes looked down unmoved by Harry's agony and anguish.

"Why!" Harry gasped out between heart rending sobs, "Why did you do that to me? Why didn't you let me save them, help them, comfort them?" He shakingly pleaded for an answer, trying to draw breath as he kneeled on the ground hunched over, bloody tears falling onto his hands and the floor around him.

"**You needed to learn how to kill**_**…"**_ Death said without feeling, without remorse. There was a slight change in death's voice, but Harry couldn't focus on it with the pain of watching so many deaths fly before his memories.

"But their pain? Their agony!" Harry cried out as he gripped the leg of Death's suit, pleading for understanding.

"**You misunderstand; there was no pain and agony in their deaths. By the time We came, the agony was over; there is no pain in death, only release.**_**"**_ Death continued unmoved by Harry's countenance.

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, blood smearing up his forearm as he released Death's suit and sat back on his knees, attempting to bring his breathing under control.

"I don't understand." Harry stated, finally calming and looking up into Death's 'face,' the black orbs staring down at him.

Death continued to look at the shaken form of Harry.

"**You were focusing on the agony that is life, specifically the pain that is loss of life or the pain of life right at the end, you need to look beyond at the inception of death, the end of pain**" Death explained.

Harry cocked his head to the side in thought, took a big breath halting shuddering breath as he began regaining his composure. Using the palm of his hand, Harry smeared away the snot from his face that had come from crying so hard, smearing the blood trails that had been running down his cheeks.

Death reached down and tapped Harry on middle of his forehead.

"**Remember the moment of death, ignore the life."**Death commanded, and all of the previous deaths that Harry had played witness to went through his mind again.

* * *

Death was still silently looking down at Harry when he returned from his memories of the trip Death had taken him on.

Harry was silent for a moment, and then looked up at the being.

"I understand." Was all Harry related.

"**Good, the knowledge will do you well when you leave to travel the world once more, and it has brought you closer to understanding us."** Death stated, its voice no longer sounding wispy and far away; now it sounded just slightly ethereal.

Looking up, Harry saw that Death's features were now distinct. Pale, almost white skin, and defined cheekbones were capped by the still black holes where Death's eyes should have been. However the face now held definite lines and a shaggy black head of hair that rested over Death's very human looking ears and covered Death's forehead.

Harry picked himself up, his form looking to be around the age of mid forties to early fifties. He realized that he no longer had to look up at Death, but was able to stand facing the being face to eyeless face.

He'd not mentioned Death's form, or the changes in it, to Death before, but now it was a bit on the creepy side staring into two black abysses rather than eyes.

"So, um, what is going on with your lack of eyes?" Harry asked, a bit uncomfortable at bringing up the topic, but unable to get himself to really look straight into the holes where Death's eyes should have been.

"**They are the window to the soul. When you understand what that means, you will be ready to move on to the next step in your… journey." **Death stated.

"**But more important than my soul, is the changes to yours." **Death continued, and then made a flick towards Harry's back.

Black flames leapt from the skin of Harry's back where the tattoo of darkness was there. A bright line of cold dark fire that did not burn the skin flared in a straight line across his back, before shrinking down until the line of fire was shorter, and now touched the pinnacle of the triangle and perfectly bisected the circle.

Harry waved his hand, and two gold rimmed mirrors silently appeared. A flick of his pointer finger on his right hand, a slight upward motion, and the upper part of his Egyptian robes disappeared, clearly showing a circle within a triangle, both bisected by a fiery line.

As the black fire seemed to extinguish itself, Harry looked at his reflection. He noticed that both the circle and the straight line of the tattoo seemed to swallow more light than the outline of the triangle did. Whereas the triangle was merely black and cold to the touch, the circle and line seemed to be equivalent to staring into the black abysses of Death's eye sockets.

Death walked over to stand beside Harry.

"**You are almost complete; your apprenticeship is almost over. It is time you learned to form and control your soul. But this is easily rectified by weighing the souls." **Death explained. **"Come." **Was his last direction, before Death lifted his hands and silently glided out of the open windows of the tower and out over the city; gliding in a standing position with Death's hands slightly upraised.

Harry followed Death's direction and he too lifted off, wearing only his Egyptian wrap around his loins, a brief thought about flashing people down below went through his head, clearly showing that there was still a bit of the little boy left inside Harry's being.

* * *

Harry followed Death's guidance as the two of them floated out over the city, slightly weaving between the tall chimneys and gothic spires of the city. They eventually found themselves hovering over a great city square, filled with lines of people moving towards a single throne.

On the throne sat Death, even though Death hovered with Harry.

"**Come." **Death stated from his position next to Harry, no looking to see if Harry followed as the floating figure of Death moved towards his counterpart on the throne.

As the two figures of Death drew close to each other, they dissolved into black mist for a second, before completely reforming into one being that sat on the throne.

Harry glided down and floated to Death's right hand side, wondering what was going on.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked as he looked out over the crowd.

Looking at the people in the square, tall ones, short ones, old and young, of every race creed and nationality, even a few different races of beings, Harry saw that he could partially see right through them.

"**Now we look, and we weigh their soul." **Death stated unemotionally, giving a crook of his finger and causing the first figure in line to move before Death.

The ghostly visage of an old man looked into Death's eye sockets for a second, before death pointed to a chimney to the right.

The ghost, or what Harry guessed was the soul, of the old man smiled briefly and went towards the fire. Stepping into the fireplace, there was a brief flash of green floo flames, and the soul was gone.

"A floo? Where are they going and why a floo?" Harry asked.

"**To his reward and to his family who are waiting for him in paradise."** Death stated, **"And as for why a floo, well you didn't really think that the Wizards designed the original did you? Let's just say that Merlin had a near Death experience and we will leave it at that." **Death stated, the merest hint of a smile creeping across Death's face before he turned and ushered for the next soul to come forward.

This soul looked to be wringing its hands and attempting to look anywhere but in Death's eyes. It wasn't until Death snatched out his hand and grabbed the soul by the chin that the dead man's soul gazed into the abyss of Death's sockets.

If a ghost could be said to pale, then this would have qualified as the soul held in Death's hands began to quake in fear as Death gazed into the deceased beings eyes.

Death leaned back, but did not release the soul's chin; rather Death's hand moved to quickly grab the soul by the neck and picked the soul up. To Death's left a catacomb opened up, and the sounds of screaming and gnashing of teeth could be heard to usher from the dark of the tomb.

Death casually flung the soul of the man in his grasp through the open doors; the sound of the man's scream was cut off abruptly as the doors to the tomb closed behind him.

Death turned his visage towards Harry.

"**It is now your turn, come, take my seat and bear judgment on those who enter my realm." **Death commanded.

Leaving his seat, Death calmly ushered Harry to assume Death's former position of judgment.

"Um, so I just look into their eyes?" Harry asked, looking at Death for guidance as an old lady moved forward towards Harry and the throne.

"**No. You are gazing into their soul, learning their form, what makes them and guides them. By learning their form you will gain the ability to mold your own form, for we, just as the living, grow and change ourselves by our experiences and the lessons we learn mark our souls." **Death attempted to explain.

Harry nodded, thinking that he understood what Death was telling him, Harry turned his attention towards the old woman before him, and gazed into her eyes.

Her life was there before him, from birth to death. Every action, every inaction, every belief, thought and movement; even down to the number of breathes and heartbeats that she had experienced in her life. Harry realized that he knew her life so well, that he could have assumed her visage if he so choose; the understanding of his new powers stated so in the back of his brain.

Smiling, Harry sat back from his soul gaze, and ushered the woman to the right. She smiled at him and bobbed a curtsy before disappearing into the floo with a wash of green flames.

The soul of a teenager confidently strolled before Harry and looked Harry in the eye, challenging Harry to judge him, and judge him Harry did.

Harry saw the boy grow up in a good home, but change as he became more selfish and self centered. He saw the young scion of wealth and privilege, take what he wanted and throw away the leftovers; whether that be food, toys, or people. Harry saw the boy defile the souls of others, beating and bullying, even raping those he cared nothing for whether they be servant or peer of nobility.

Harry saw that this boy was evil. Yes, the boy was a lesser evil than some out there, but still evil.

Snatching out his hand Harry grabbed the boy by the throat and lifted him off the ground, the strength of the one who controlled Death was in Harry's limbs.

The door to the catacombs opened once again, and the wails of the damned issued up into the air. With a mighty throw, Harry tossed the unrepentant soul of the teenager in to join them.

The doors to the tomb clanged shut, and Harry shook his head to refocus himself before moving on to weight the soul of the next person in line.

Harry continued to weigh and judge the souls for a long but indeterminate period of time. Harry lost all sense of time as he performed the services of Death, for time has no meaning to the dead.

It wasn't until Death laid his hand on Harry's shoulder that he realized that he had judged the souls of what must have been millions or billions of dead beings.

"**Come."** Death ushered, Death's form splitting in two as one flew up into the air towards the tower, and the other one assuming Death's throne as Harry flew up to follow the departing figure.

* * *

Harry found himself again gazing into the mirrors that stood in the tallest tower of the city of Death.

"**Gaze into the mirror, you know the forms of the souls, you know their makeup, what made them different and unique and what made them similar in form and function." **Death explained.

"**Now I want you to remember the old men and old women, find those experiences and the effects of the passage of time and assume those within your being." **Death continued to command.

Harry gazed himself in the mirror, shirtless and still wrapped in the Egyptian weave around his loins; he cocked his head to the side and thought back to the countless souls of the old that he had examined. Finding the similarities in their life's experiences, Harry innately knew what he needed to do.

Slowly, and then with increasing speed, Harry saw the reflection of his body begin to age and stoop. Rather than growing upwards, he saw himself shrink and begin to hunch. His skin lost its tone and firmness, and spots appeared from weathering. His eyes did not cease to gleam their unholy green killing curse color, but there was a sense of age that could be seen in the reflections gaze.

Looking down, Harry examined his hands and saw that they had aged until he looked like he was in his eighties or nineties. Looking back at his reflection, Death continued.

"**Now remember the woman, remember her differences and similarities." **Death commanded.

The image of Harry changed to that of female, something that felt a bit intrinsically wrong to Harry since he knew he was male, and which caused him to only hold the form and examine it for a few minutes before reverting to his form of a fifty year old male.

"**Good, now just two more steps." **Death's voice commanded from out of Harry's sight lines.

"**First form your body to the age of eleven." **Death stated.

Harry followed the letter of the task; his body grew hale and healthy and then shrank. A bit of baby fat appeared on his body and a certain ungainliness of youth, yet an ever present vigor stared back at him. Harry smiled at returning to a youthful form, for the forms of old age held certain pains and aches inherent to them.

"**Now for the fun of it," **A bit of humor coming through Death's voice**, "Become a goblin, and then a centaur, then a werewolf, then a house elf, and then turn into something that nobody has really ever seen." **Death's voice commanded with the clear hints of a smile in it.

Harry smirked at his reflection in the mirror before following Death's commands.

First a goblin, then a centaur, then a werewolf, a little floppy eared house elf, and then a small cuddly creature with a big snout and a curly-q shaped crumpled sharp horn on its head.

Then Harry stood in his adult form again, his reflection that of a man in his 40's. Harry quirked his head to the side before waving his hand at his reflection.

Harry's wrap liquefied before covering his body, changing into a black suit, shirt, shoes, and blood red tie. Harry smiled at his new clothing before turning to face death.

Harry turned away from the mirrors, faced Death, and looked into his duplicate image. For where Death's once hollow eyes were, shown two killing curse green orbs and a duplicate smirk to that of Harry's.

Harry felt a flaring of black fire be contained on his back as Death addressed him.

"There, much better. I'm glad we finally understand each other." Death stated with a smile as he looked back at his twin, the master of death, Harry Potter.

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**AN: OK, the lessons of Death are done and it's on to the real world to deal with Dumbledore Voldemort and the Wizarding World. Sorry for the wait, but I really had writer's block on what I wanted to put into this chapter. I have to say that I think it came out a lot better than my original plans for it, and I hope you enjoyed it. I will try and not wait so long for the next chapter. Now that we are in the wizarding world it should be much easier to write; at least I hope so.**


	7. Chapter 7: Death Comes Silently

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN: And back to the wizarding world we go. This story doesn't come as easily to me as the other ones do, but I enjoy writing it every so often. Sorry for the delay, but I write as the feelings and plot come to me.**

**AN: This chapter has not been beta read, my beta reader is in the midst of her midterm exams. Any mistakes are mine which haven't been caught by a fresh pair of eyes.**

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/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

**Chapter 7: Death Comes Silently**

"Perhaps passing through the gates of death is like passing quietly through the gate in a pasture fence. On the other side, you keep walking, without the need to look back. No shock, no drama, just the lifting of a plank or two in a simple wooden gate in a clearing. Neither pain, nor floods of light, nor great voices, but just the silent crossing of a meadow." ~ Mark Helprin, "A Soldier of the Great War"

As the evening darkness rolled in on the city streets of London the tall buildings along its streets acted like canyons, capturing and funneling the darkness down to the street level. These deep manmade canyons cut off any light of the sunset that would have been visible from the ground level, had the sky not been cloudy that evening.

With the encroaching darkness most of the artificial canyons of London immediately took on a neon white or incandescent orange glow as the electric lights of the city automatically came on and fully cast off the darkness with their electric hum. However in the depths of the magical district it was the pop and flickering of gas lanterns that magically came to life that attempted to combat the darkness, but the gas lights only partially succeeded in their battle with the darkness. In Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley the gas lamps provided light, but also cast flickering shadows and caused dark angles with moving figures of shadow to appear on the cobble stoned streets as the light from the gas lamps swayed and shifted with the movement of the flames.

The witches and wizards of Diagon alley hurried along the streets as the gas lamps flickered to life, the magical residents of the alley hurrying to finish up some last minute errands before returning home. The magical folk's actions were further spurned to hurry by not only the incoming darkness but also by a freak cold snap that seemed to blow in from the north, a silent but cold wind that chilled the residents running about in their summer robes.

As the streets cleared of pedestrians escaping the increasingly cold wind, the shadows on the cobble stones danced to the flickering and windblown flames of the gas lamps; and then suddenly went still.

Like water in a bathtub starting to swirl and go down the drain, the shadows on the ground in the center of Diagon alley left their clefts and distinct places and slowly started to swirl around in a giant circle, slowly gaining speed and drawing towards a center point. Like a thirty foot wide two dimensional black hole, the darkness was sucked towards a central point that got larger as more and more of the shadows were captured. With the gathering darkness grew the cold, for it was as if the dark center of swirling mass shadows was also sucking the heat out of the air and replacing it with the cold of the grave.

The only individuals to see the strange site were the two goblin guards standing at the great stone threshold of Gringotts. The guards took one wide eyed look at the swirling mass and then darted through the open doors of the bank; doors which quickly clanged shut and issued forth the sound of many locking mechanisms as the bank sealed itself up as if it were under attack.

The now empty streets played witness to the gathering cold and swirling mass of light absorbing darkness as all of the street's shadows were finally sucked into a tight inky black circle. Then, with a swirling blast of cyclonic force, the darkness quickly shot up seven feet into the air, and then quickly rushed back to the ground to dissipated; the shadows once again returning to their proper places.

Unlike before however the street was no longer empty, for now a black robed figure, covered from head to toe by the diaphanous fabric of his cloak, stood statue like in the middle of the street.

The sound of an inhale of air and then exhale was heard, prefaced by, "Ahh, it's good to be home." A mature voice stated from out of the cowl of the inky black robes.

As the six foot tall figure stirred and moved its head from side to side the slightest glimmer of dark shimmering runes and symbols from long dead languages could be seen to sparkle from the ink black cloak due to the reflected lamp light. The reflection was only momentary as if one viewed the cloak they would think the shimmering a trick of the eye as the symbols quickly blended back into the robe as the light no longer show on the figure in just the right way.

Focusing on his surroundings, the figure looked at the stores around him before proceeding towards the locked gates of Gringotts; no doubt heavily warded and booby trapped to repel all those who would assault it.

There would be no assaulting or flashy battles today, nor would there even be the sound of knocking or footsteps as the figure glided across the ground towards the bank and then up its steps towards the doors. Rather than knock for entrance, the figure merely faded out of existence, seemingly disappearing an inch before he would have impacted the doors.

On the other side of the doors, the goblin bank tellers of Gringotts scurried around depositing jewels and treasures into hidey holes or down deposit drops, quickly clearing the main hall of anything of value. As this was all going on, ranks of guards spewed up from the depths of the bank and charged across the great entrance with armor, pikes, halberds, scythes, swords and axes, all running towards the door to halt any enemies that may breach the main gates and the bank's external defenses.

And beach those gates is exactly what that figure did, as the goblins in the entrance hall all halted their actions when a black robed figure seemed to materialize out of thin air right in front of the closed doors.

The goblin guards screamed in fury and charged the black robed figure, halberds and spears leading the way, **[Die Wizard!]** they yelled in Gobbledeegook.

The black robed figure stood still, neither pulling a wand nor moving out of the path of the charge.

Quirking his head to the side, the figure questioned, "Was it something I said or did?" Right before a spear pierced right through his chest and a sweeping halberd passed through his neck.

Only there was no blood nor no spilling of guts as the figure's chest and neck seemed to waft like smoke or shadow around the melee weapons before reforming back into a seeming solid form after the weapons were retracted.

Goggle eyed, the goblins surrounding the figure stepped back for a second, gritting their teeth and then tried again, all the while screaming in Gobbledeegook, **[Die wizard! Die intruder, why the hell won't you just die?]**

Through the hacking and the slashing, the figure just stood there looking down at the little goblins with a blasé attitude.

"I really don't know what you are saying." The figure responded politely, though unfortunately drowned out by the screams and battle cries of the attacking goblins. "Is this how you treat all customers these days?" The figure calmly questioned.

The hacking and stabbing continued on for another minute without any results or real reaction from the figure. It wasn't until a score of red robbed goblins ran into the entry hall and started casting goblin battle magic at the figure that he actually responded in any sort of action.

A sheet of fire and several large boulders appeared in the air and were flung at the figure, resulting in a palpable change in the air around the robed man, as he went from lackadaisical to perturbed; the hairs on the back of the attacking goblin guards' necks stood on end, as if lighting was gathering to strike.

Quick as a striking serpent, one pale white human hand shot out of the sleeve of his robe, right hand striking right through the magical breastplate of an attacking Goblin guard like a spear that split the magical metal in twain but didn't pierce the skin below, even though the figure's hand clearly disappeared into the chest of the goblin.

The goblin warrior's body shivered and seemed to go ridged as if in rigamortis with the hand in his chest, all the while the figure's other hand was busy also, as a second pale white hand appeared in a fist above the heads of the attacking goblins and pointed towards the incoming magical attacks of the goblin battle mages.

Two things seemed to happened at the same time. First, the fist pointing towards the incoming magical attacks opened violently into an open clawed hand, causing a rip to form in the air as a jagged eight foot by nine foot hole of what looked like starry night appeared and swallowed the incoming spells before they could hit the black robed figure. The air in the room seemed to whip and a shrill sucking sound was heard as goblin soldiers around the 'wizard' were picked up off the ground and sucked into the vacuum that the hole in space was causing. Second, over the sounds of the shrill whistle of the sucking air and the cries of fear from the goblins came the death rattled cough of the goblin who was locked in rigamortis with a hand in his chest. The death rattle was caused by the removal of the hand from the unblemished skin, but clearly clasped in the dark robed figure's hand was a struggling ghost or soul of the goblin which was slowly brought up to the figure's mouth, and sucked into the dark shadows present in the cowl of the dark robed figure.

**[Yum. Did you know that your souls taste like chicken?] **The figure asked in flawless Gobbledeegook to the goblins around him, though the goblins were all too busy to answer seeing as they were trying not to get sucked into the vortex of deep space that had been opened in their midst.

The figure looked around, and noticed that the goblin battle mages had fled the room, sealing the doors that went into the rest of the bank and the catacombs, leaving the remaining goblin guards to fend for themselves.

The figure was totally unaffected by the winds whipping by him that threatened to pick up the Goblin guards and suck them into space. He watched the formerly attacking guards digging their claws and weapons into the ground while cursing and crying out in fear. Unfortunately for the Goblins the slick marble of the Gringott's entry hall failed to give much purchase, and every now and then a guard would be bodily picked up and sucked into the rent in the air; their bodies explosively decompressing before disappearing out of sight among the stars that could be seen in the black void.

"Hmmm, can't say I've seen that type of death before. Oh well." The figure said in English and shrugged. With a negligent clasp of his hand, the rent in space closed, just in time for a goblin to lose his grasp on the floor and go flying through the place where the hole in the air had been.

The goblins around the figure moaned and groaned for a second but then realized they were still next to their tormentor and quickly backed away from him.

The disheveled goblin guards gave the figure a wide birth, but again clasped their weapons and aimed the 'pointy ends' at the figure before them, but all were hesitant to act.

**[So, can I please access my vaults now like I originally came here to do?] **The figure growled and snarled out in Gobbledeegook; he was trying to be polite after all, and it was only proper to sound like you were snarling while chewing gravel when speaking the goblin language.

It took a few seconds before the goblin guards could look around and figure out which of them was the senior most goblin guard left living and about a minute before the apparent leader could come up with an answer.

Spitting on the floor and then glaring at the wizard, the new squadron leaders cursed at the black robed magic user, **[May your mate bugger you with a spear Wizard! Why should we let you access your vaults?]** The goblin bravely cursed in Gobbledeegook though remained out of reach of the deadly wizard who had torn through his unit like they were mere green recruits not even good enough to spit-shine latrines; rather than the elite main guards of the London goblin clans that they were.

The figure merely cocked his hooded head to the side and then silently pointed a finger over the squadron leader's head and at the door that lead into the depths of bank.

A beam of light seemed to streak out of the finger and hit the doors that led to the vaults. When the magic hit the doors, it was as if a million years of time passed in an instant, as the doors instantly weathered and disappeared into dust that fell to the ground.

The action caused the goblin guards to turn a shade of puce green; which wasn't a very nice color on a goblin.

**[Well, I could always kill you all instead and just take what I wanted from the vaults… then again, I really did come here in peace. It wasn't me who attacked first after all.]** The apparent black robed magic user stated, his voice issuing evenly and politely from his hood; meaning he only spat three times and growled five or six times in between hocking up phlegm.

Before the lead goblin guard could answer back with a defiant statement that would have most likely seen the British goblin population wiped out, a goblin in a bright red suit marched through the dust piles that made up the remains of the vault cavern doors and yelled out that the wizard would be allowed to access his accounts.

Marching up to the group of gathered goblin guards and the black robed wizard in the middle, the goblin guards bowing and backing away as the red suited goblin walked up to face the wizard, said goblin stated, "I am Ragnok, the banks president, and just whom may I ask will we be offering service to this evening?" the goblin stated in English.

The figure nodded as the robes around him seemed to shimmer and shrivel as if being aged and withered, but in fact the figure only shrunk down from his tall six foot tall height and muscular stature to that of being slightly taller than and almost as thin as the goblins. Lifting pale white hands up to the cowl of his cloak, the figure removed his hood and showed the face of a boy with black messy hair and glowing green eyes.

"Why, you can call me Harry Potter." The boy wizard stated with an eerie quirky smile.

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The rest of the evening and night at the bank went much more peacefully than what had quickly followed Harry's entrance to the bank. By peaceful it meant that Harry was not attacked with any more blades or magic and only had to avoid four or five instances of attempted poisoning or cursing from booby trapped items. However Harry knew, based on his goblin 'imbibed' knowledge, that the attempted poisonings/hexing should be treated as signs of respect for a powerful adversary; no goblin expected the target of the poison to succumb to the threat if they were truly as powerful and dangerous as they were perceived, and if they did die then they obviously deserved it. Such was goblin culture where the strong ruled and the weak were eaten. Harry merely shrugged off the attempts to kill him and was rather blasé about the whole death threat thing, seeing as he was so familiar with death and its many forms.

Harry easily bypassed the threats and took it all in stride, using his own body morphing skills to make his finger nail dagger-sharp for use with the blood identification test rather than using the offered cursed blade that had been laid next to the identification bowl. He easily avoided touching the poisoned blood-quill and opted to use his fingernail and blood to write with instead; he was still able to get the paper work signed in triplicate to get the accounts of the Potters and Harry's ancestors unfrozen and back into circulation. Ultimately Harry review of his accounts and directions for the future even won some brownie points with the goblins, especially when Harry authorized the use of armed hostile takeovers of investment targets or in securing debts and back payments owed to the Potter family. There wasn't anything truly unexpected in Harry's inheritance. Sure he was the last of the line of the Duke of Gryffindor and held voting rights to the House of Peverell in addition to House Potter and Gryffindor, but it wasn't like he was the next coming of Merlin, Morgana, or the secret love child of Voldemort; nothing that clichéd. Still, everything went routinely, Harry swore out a blood feud against Voldemort for the destruction of House Potter and then finished the paper work to reclaim all Potter property seized/'borrowed' by Dumbledore or the Ministry. Everything was going swimmingly, up until the point where Ragnok questioned what Lord Potter's plans were now that he had returned to Wizarding World.

Harry negligently replied with a casual wave of his hand to preface the nature of his answer, "Oh, I don't know, probably spend some time looking around for the pieces of Thomas Riddle's soul. Perhaps travel the world a bit, enjoy my fortune, why do you ask?"

Ragnok looked back at the seemly small boy and smiled a sharp toothed smile at the chance to ruin the young wizards plans, "Well what about your schooling, it is the law that all wizards must sit for at least their OWL exams if not their NEWTS?"

Harry smiled back, realizing what the goblin banking director was trying to do, "Ah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have to go to school given that I have my Master's certificate already."

With that, Harry reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out a grey scroll of some indeterminate 'animal' skin wrapped around the leg bone of a human. A blood red wax seal held the scroll shut, and on the seal was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Harry handed the scroll over to the director with a smile.

The fact that the 'boy' across from him had a Master's certificate already gave the head goblin a sinking feeling that his fun had been ruined. Using a sharp nail to break the seal, the Goblin began to read through the scroll.

Harry watched Ragnok read over the contents of the scroll, and as the goblin read Harry noted that the bank director's complexion took on a more pallid look; Harry's smile growing larger in inverse proportion to the goblin's growing scowl and fright.

"Dark Arts… Necromancy... Soul magic, Blood magic… Master of Death!" Ragnok read out loud in growing horror as he read down the scroll. The Goblin's eyes grew larger and his skin took on a more paled green look as he continued down the page.

The Director of Gringotts Bank ended the reading and set down the scroll quickly before pushing away from his seat and shuffling across the office to the liqueur cabinet; Harry smiling at the goblin's reaction the whole time.

The director grabbed a bottle of high proof fire whisky before pouring himself a glass and swallowing the contents quickly. The smoke and fire shot out of Ragnok's ears while the head goblin concentrated on the empty glass for a moment, before refilling it again.

In his seat before the desk, Harry chuckled a bit at Ragnok's shock, for he enjoyed a good prank as much as his forefather had.

Ragnok continued to stare at his empty glass for a second before quickly giving himself another refill of the firewhisky and then tossing back the second shot and having the resulting fire flash out of his ears and out his pointy nose.

Harry continued to chuckle at the goblin and congratulated himself on apparently shocking the goblin; which was a very hard thing to do given that goblins woke up in their homes to the sound of dragons in the cave right next door.

Unfortunately for Harry, his patting himself on the back was put to a quick end when Ragnok made a slight chuckling sound under the goblin's breath.

Harry's eyebrow raised and he gave the goblin, who was still staring at the empty firewhisky glass, an inquisitive look.

"Heh… heh heh." Ragnok started to chuckle, which slowly grew into a laugh, "Ha… Ha ha ha, HA HA HA HA HA! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Ragnok's chuckle turned into an all out laugh, which then turned into maniacal cackling; overall not a nice sound to come out of a goblin's mouth and one which caused several lower level goblins, who had been eavesdropping outside the office door, to run away to hide.

Harry continued to be amused while assuming that he had broken the mind of the Goblin Chief, that is until Ragnok looked up at Harry with a gleam in the goblin's eyes before bellowing in laughter even louder.

It was at this point that Harry started to frown, and Ragnok reversed the tables by having his smile grow larger in an inverse relationship to Harry's frown.

"Bwa Ha ha Ha… They're no good! BwA HA HA HA HA… You have to go to school still. HA HA HA HA HA!" It made the Ragnok's day to be able to crush the boy's dreams about skipping out on school, for what child of any race didn't fear going back to school.

Harry frowned, thought for a second about what the Director had said while looking down at his knees, trying to concentrate to think about what the Goblin could mean by his words. Finally, not understanding, Harry looked up again and asked, "Um, pardon me? Come again on that, what do you mean 'they're no good' and that 'I will have to go to school still?'"

Ragnok continued to laugh for a few seconds, took the time to pour himself a glass of the fire whisky again, but this time sipped it nicely as he smiled and made his way back to his chair; continuing to chuckle the whole way.

Ragnok made it to his chair and took his time to breathe a few times to settle himself down before looking across at Harry with a huge sharp toothed grin. Removing a handkerchief from the pocket of his little red suit, Ragnok wiped his eyes from the tears that the laughter had inspired and then blew his pointy nose rather harshly before speaking. "Well, it's like this Lord Potter. Though your Master's certificate does mean that under the Master and Apprentice Act of 1462 you are fully emancipated and considered a Master of your craft, however the Ministry of Magic only recognizes Master's certificates in specific noted professions ranging from Potions, to Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and even on to such topics as Divination and Alchemy. There isn't a single Magical Ministry in the entire world that recognize Masteries in Soul Magic, Blood Magic, Dark Arts, Necromancy or Death. So… heh heh heh, You'll have to go back to school to take your OLWs. BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Ragnok finished his statement, and broke down laughing at the look on Harry's face as the truth dawned on the boy.

Harry's already pale complexion went a shade of light green, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish a few times as he was too stunned to really reply.

"But um, But um… um, ah, but the certificate." Harry started and stopped as the laughing goblin's words filtered through his brain, all of this only caused Director Ragnok to laugh louder at Harry's reaction to the news.

Finally Harry came up with a reply. "Oh Bugger!"

Harry Potter would have to attend Hogwarts after all.

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**AN: A long time coming I know, and I apologize, but this story and the muse it started with just wouldn't come to me. I promise that I'm not going to abandon this; I know what I want to do with it and where it ultimately is going to go. The only problem is that I need to be in the right mood to write this story, and I'm not often in just the right frame of mind in order to get this character right. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Cheers!**


	8. Chapter 8: Death Never Sleeps

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN: So, I don't like to drink caffeine. Yeah I know I'm weird compared to most Americans, but it gives me the jitters. So when I drank half a liter of cherry coke last night (mixed with liberal doses of rum mind you) I wasn't going to go to sleep any time soon. So sitting in the dark in the silence of the night while my wife slept in the bedroom down the hall, this chapter came to me. Apparently I have to be in that right mode of hyper mixed with a liberal dose of mellow in order to write this piece. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think as I have three different stories going at the moment and reviews and reader thoughts help determine which story gets my attention.**

**Warning: My beta is taking her midterms, so any mistakes are mine. I figured that you would want to see this now rather than waiting another week to get the next couple of updates.**

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/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

'_Thought'_

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**Chapter 8: Death Never Sleeps**

"I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death." ~ Nasir Jones aka Nas

Ragnok had continued laughing for a few minutes longer after Harry had realized the legal situation that he was in if he wanted to continue moving about the Magical world unhindered by stupid regulations. After a few seconds though Harry got fed up with the Goblin's cackling and turned to growl at the goblin.

The timber of Harry's voice changed with his frustration, and it was the voice of death that rebutted Ragnok's laughter. _**"Laugh it up shorty, and I'll make sure your final appointment with death comes quicker than it was scheduled."**_ Harry growled in that wispy all encompassing voice that was the voice of Death.

Ragnok's laugh cut off in a gasp as the hairs on the back of his little goblin neck stood on end while the temperature in the room quickly dropped to right around freezing. _'Perhaps it isn't smart to laugh in the face of death.' _Ragnok thought quickly as his laugh cut off in a choking gasp, his breath frosting before him even though there was a roaring fire in the fireplace five feet away.

"Ahem, ah, sorry, is there anything else Gringotts can do for you today?" Ragnok politely questioned while politely looking away from Harry's predatory stare.

Harry continued to glare at Ragnok for another two seconds while the goblin before him shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Finally Harry broke the silence and the room noticeably regained warmth. "Yes, you're a bank, so I want some money from my vaults." Harry stated, his frustration with this latest situation coming through his voice.

Ragnok quickly pressed a few buttons on his desk, and a coin purse materialized in a coin dish on his desk. The purse had the Gryffindor crest, the Potter crest, and the crest of House Peverell on it merged as if they were some sort of interlocked rings that formed an endless knot together. The coin purse noticeably bulged, but when Harry lifted it from the surface of the desk he noticed how light it was. Hefting the purse once into the air, Harry pushed it towards where a pocket on his trousers would be, and the black cloak that he wore seemed to swallow up and absorbed the coin purse so that it disappeared from view.

Turning back to Ragnok, Harry questioned, "How much is in there, and what's the easiest way to acquire more if I need it?" He stated with a frown; still grumpy about the whole situation he found himself in at the moment.

Ragnok gulped and answered politely, "I've taken the initiative to tie that coin purse into your vaults, you shouldn't have to return to Gringotts if you need more money." The goblin answered before looking away from Harry.

Harry smirked at the goblin, a bit of an dark look coming to his eyes as he realized exactly what Ragnok was getting at, "How nice of you, and at no charge I'm sure." Harry stated with a bit of challenge. "After all, we wouldn't want me to have to return for an appointment with the goblins before it was the proper time, wouldn't we now?" Harry questioned.

Ragnok nodded quickly, large eyes looking at Harry with an expression that Harry's stolen memories reminded him of what a house elf might look like; it wasn't an attractive look on a goblin.

"Very well then Director, until we meet again…" Harry stated, and faded out of view.

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Harry materialized without missing a step as he exited the still closed doors of Gringotts bank.

"Bloody wizards and goblins, can't live with them, can't kill them all… ok I could, but fate and destiny and would be seriously pissed off. I don't even want to think about the amount of paperwork that would necessitate." Harry spoke to himself as he walked down the steps and looked around at the empty Diagon alley.

Going though Harry's head were thoughts about whether he really wanted to spend time going to school to comply with the mandates of the wizarding world. In the end he decided that it was only three or four years before he could be finished with it, and it wasn't like even four years was all that long when the reality was he had merged with the immortal form of death. Harry continued to walk a bit deep in thought without really looking around at what was going on around him.

Though Harry's internal clock told him it was getting close to midnight, he didn't feel the least bit sleeping. _'Some times I wish I could sleep, but then again Death doesn't sleep; and it's not like I'd dream about anything cheerful even if I did._' Harry thought to himself, scoffing at the idea of having pleasant dreams; what with all the forms of brutal deaths that he had seen along with the memories absorbed from the book of death and the soul's he had imbibed.

A 'pop' sounded to his right, and a wizard in a dark grey robe and hat appeared before said wizard moved down into a dark and dreary alley that separated off of Diagon.

Harry smiled to himself as Tom Riddle's memories of Knockturn Alley came to mind. It wasn't that the memories were pleasant, it was just that Harry smiled because the idea of walking Knockturn Alley solved his conundrum about what to do to keep himself busy until the stores opened up on the main alley in the morning.

Shrugging to himself Harry started walking towards the mouth of the Knockturn Alley.

Just as Harry was about to breach the threshold into the dark alley, a dark haired hook nosed man of a pale complexion that almost matched Harry's exited the potions shop that was just inside Knockturn Alley and walked towards Harry and the exit to Knockturn Alley; black robes billowing behind him. A memory gained from Voldemort tickled the back of Harry's brain when seeing the man, but it enough time had passed that the man could be somebody other than one of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Harry smiled as he admired the billowing charm that his eyes saw was worked into the fabric of the man's robes and called out to the man with a smirk as he started to pass by.

"Nice billowing charm there." Harry said with a polite smile on his face, the man's eyes locking with Harry's for a brief second before Harry continued on his way down the alley.

The man, who was none other than Severus Snape the Potions Master of Hogwarts, sneered down at the boy's address to him, only to stop as green eyes the color of the killing curse looked up at him. Snape seemed to stumble, and stop to glance back at the boy who had looked at him with eyes the color of his Lily's but with a pale visage of his hated rival James Potter.

Harry continued walking, oblivious to the effect that he had made on the passing man, before disappearing around one of the many twists and turns that was part of Knockturn Alley.

Severus blinked. Then blinked again, as he tried to convince himself that he had been mistaken in what he had seen. _'The Potter whelp hasn't been seen since the night that Voldemort was destroyed.' _Severus convinced himself. _'It's late, and you are starting to imagine things. There is no way that the defeater of Voldemort and a soon to be first year student is wandering Knockturn Alley at night unattended._' The potions master thought to himself before shaking his head.

Silently, Professor Snape changed away from his original goal of heading to Diagon Alley's apparition area and instead headed towards the Leaky Caldron to get sloshed; the memories of loss and days past overwhelmed the man and called his thoughts back to a green eyed girl who had been his one true friend, until he had cast that friendship away in the worst mistake of his life.

Deep in thought, and concentrating on hurrying to the pub in order to get pissed as a fart as quickly as possible, the potions professor didn't even think to warn the young boy wandering into the certain danger that was Knockturn Alley at night.

* * *

Harry wandered deeper into Knockturn Alley as memories from Voldemort told him the details of the alley where a young Tom Riddle used to work after graduating from Hogwarts.

Still a bit frustrated with his situation of having to go to school at Hogwarts when he had the whole curriculum already in his head from Voldemort's memories, Harry just looked for something to do. Being that Harry had kept the form of what his age should have been had he stayed in the United Kingdom and not disappeared into death's realm, Harry looked for all the world like an innocent little boy wandering in a place where he had no business to be.

"I wouldn't wander any further deary. A nice innocent little boy like you shouldn't be down here, especially when it's dark out. Aren't you supposed to be afraid of the dark or something sonny?" The voice of a hag interrupted him from the shadows of a doorway to some warehouse that no doubt contained illicit or dark goods of some sort; at least if the bloody handprints on the lintel were anything to go by.

The hag had stepped forward and reached out for Harry's shoulder as she was speaking, but he quickly smacked it away the aged hand that seemed to have a century's worth of dirt and grime encrusted in their wrinkles and under the hag's old fingernails.

Growling, Harry backed away from the lady, "Back off lady, I haven't been innocent since I was one year old." He stated before turning to proceed down the alley again.

The hag was undaunted, and smirked a smile that only contained three or four sharp jagged chipped teeth at Harry. "Why aren't you a little tiger. Why don't you come inside with me out of the darkness sweetie, I'm sure you would enjoying coming in to join me at dinner." She stated.

"Don't… patronize… me… Hag." Harry growled and swung on the hag; the darkness of the alley seemed to suck out of the crannies around Harry and start to flow into his cloak. The temperature immediately began to turn chill around Harry and the hag took a step back as there was something in the boy's eyes that promised her certain death.

"You don't want to know what I did to the last guy who patronized me. That way leads to more than just a smacked bottom, capisce?" Harry finished, before his cloak seemed to ripple with the gathering darkness, the shadows of the alley rippling as they merged with him and suddenly shaded his face from view; as if he had just raised his cowl.

The hag backed up, fright clearly showing in her eyes as she realized that she had made a mistake leaving the security of the threshold of the warehouse door. She held her breath as the small boy, now fully shrouded in a cloak and cowl made out of seemingly liquid night, disappeared down another turn of the alley and out of view. She didn't know why, but she felt she had just had a brush with death.

Harry snarled to himself for being caught somewhat unawares while immersed deep within memories, and the continued passage down the alley was marked by a wave of cold that followed him as the bottoms of his cloak seeped along the cobbles and walls of the alley to tendril out and taste the flavors of the shadows he passed through; searching for danger to attack.

It was fortunate that he did so as a hiss of pain came from his right as he passed a gap between 'Borgin and Burkes' and a disreputable store that had a pair of blood magic daggers in the front window.

"Bloody el! Yur gunna pay fer dat lad, I'll cut ya I will!" the boil faced cutpurse cursed as he leapt from his hiding spot and swung a long jagged dagger at Harry; there was a red streak of blood on the thief's sleeve where it looked like the tendril had sucked the heat out of the man so much that it had flaked both the shirt and skin away as if frostbitten by horrible cold.

Harry twisted to the side, as the first slash missed splitting him from head to toe. The second follow up slash was just as poorly skilled and was easily dodged by bending backwards quickly under the horizontal sweep of the blade; all the while the thief was cursing up a storm as phlegm and spittle foamed around the would be thief's mouth as he wildly swung and missed connecting with the supple dodging of Harry's dark robbed figure.

"Enough of this, I'm done toying with you." Harry finally said, having his fill of playing dodge with the man and sweeping up a hand that grabbed the dagger wielding wrist with a strength that was equivalent to bound iron.

"What the?" The mugger cursed and his eyes got large as he tried to pull his wrist loose but failed to even budge the small figure's arm. Starting to panic the runty bugger of a throat cutter swung at Harry with his other hand, attempting to punch Harry in the head, but his hand was intercepted by Harry's other hand which also stopped the attempt cold.

The cold of the grave started to gather around the two figures, and the would-be pick pocket felt his strength begin to leave him as he stared into the shadows of the cloak before him where there should have been a face, but was instead only shadow.

"What, what are you…?" The thief gasped, his statement cutting off into chatters of his teeth that shook his body as it felt like all the warmth in the world was getting sucked away from him. Falling to his knees, the dark robed figure just looked at the thief.

Harry looked down and frowned at the man who had dared attack him. Watching the body of the once dirty and diseased yet formerly living figure of the pickpocket start to crumble, Harry twisted his head to the side and watched as the thief started to age right before his eyes. The thief's hair started to fall out in clumps, the flesh became sallow and withdrawn as wrinkles and sagging skin filled the once somewhat healthy face of the cutpurse and the wild crazed eyes glossed over and filled with cataracts; all the while Harry just stared silently at the man as he withered as if time were passing through him at a decade a second.

It took less than a minute, and as the Harry released the thief's hands and allowed the man to fall down to the ground before him, he saw the soul of the man begin to depart the former human's body; a body that withered away to dust and slowly decomposed right before Harry's eyes.

Snatching the spirit out of the air by its ethereal neck, Harry finally spoke.

"Ah, Corner, Mr. Corner, squib of seventy years of age and due to die in three weeks due to a nasty case of chimera crabs… That would explain the facial boils. Tut Tut Mr. Corner, you really shouldn't do naughty things with chimeras, it leads to all sorts of deadly diseases. Oh well, death shouldn't mind the early delivery. Right, where was I?" Harry finished before opening his mouth and sticking the soul into his maw before beginning to chew.

"Smack smack…" Harry smacked his lips and made almost exaggerated chewing motions before swallowing as if he was trying to choke down something that didn't entirely agree with him.

"Wow, incredibly stringy and a bit on the chewy side, seasoned with some nice knowledge about the back ways of Knockturn and the latest news on people to fence stolen goods with but otherwise pretty unfulfilling of a meal. Blah, and now I got some of Corner stuck in my teeth." Harry finished sucking down the soul while talking to himself, only to finish with trying to use his finger nails to pick the little bit of the former Mr. Corner's soul from where it had gotten stuck between some of his back molars.

"Damn, I hate getting things stuck in my teeth, and Wizarding Britain is even farther behind in dentistry than the Muggle United Kingdom; which isn't saying much." Harry groused to himself as he fruitlessly tried to get the wiggling little bit of soul that evaded his attempts at picking it out of his teeth.

Frustrated, Harry looked around and noticed that Borgin and Burkes was still open, so Harry turned to enter the shop in the hopes that there would be something he could find with which to use as a toothpick.

* * *

The jingle of the bell charm on the door ward alerted Mr. Borgin that a customer had walked in, yet looking out from his seat behind the counter didn't show him anybody walking in through the door that opened and closed. Standing out of his seat with a raised eyebrow and allowing his wand to fall into his hand due to the possibility of a disillusioned customer or perhaps thief entering his store, Borgin was surprised to see a short figure enter the store in what was apparently a very expensive cloak if the shimmer of the fabric was anything to go by. He was even more surprised when a young voice issued out from under the cowl.

"Good evening Borgin," Harry stated casually as if he knew Borgin personally; for after all the memories he held of the store was from when Tom Riddle worked for Borgin and Burkes. With that, Harry pulled back the cowl of his cloak to allow himself the ability to better look around the store and see what merchandise was available.

Shocked to see a young boy revealed under the cloak, Borgin frowned before stating, "This isn't a store for children, and you shouldn't be out at this time of night anyway. Where are your parents boy?" Borgin demanded while sheathing his wand up his sleeve, the boy didn't appear to be any threat.

Harry turned to look over his shoulder back at the purveyor of the store, "I've never known you to turn away paying customers before Borgin, and where my parents are is none of your business." Harry started, before moving to continue his browsing through the dark and mostly cursed items of the store.

Borgin was going to follow up with a demand for the boy to leave, but the young man's next statement halted his initial impulse to throw the lad out into the street.

"Do you still keep the best things behind a false bookshelf over here? Ah, here's the latch." Harry stated, before walking up to a nondescript wall that had all sorts of knick knacks that were better sorted for tourists or for 'daring boys' requiring proof that they had entered Knockturn Alley. Harry slid his hand under the edge of the third shelf, deftly dodged the poisoned needle he knew was there, and depressed the button next to the needle that caused the shelf to click and the shelf slid into the floor below.

Borgin's eyes went wide and his face white as his supply of darkest contraband was easily displayed by the supposed boy. What the lad next said though made the shop keepers face not only grow paler, but Borgin's stomach feel like bludgers were fighting to escape out of it.

"Any new parsel magic books come in since Tom Riddle left your services or since Voldemort bit the dust?" Harry casually asked as he pulled out a book written on human skin and which was situated over a tray to catch blood splatters.

"Uh, Uh, uh, um… yes, um, second shelf up on the left. Should be a green binding of python skin. And um, what did you say your name was young master?" Borgin shakily asked, a new found politeness coming to his voice as the boy deftly handled, read, and then put back probably the most dangerous book that Borgin had in his collection.

Harry looked over his shoulder briefly at Borgin, "Oh, sorry about that, Lord Harry Potter. Oh, that's what I needed." Harry stated as he saw a glass lidded jewelry case that held a cursed necklace, a dagger made out of some sort of tooth, and a gold Ankh stick pin that Harry had recognized as belonging to Amotep at one time; though that must have been centuries ago given the dull gleam of the old gold.

Borgin was shocked that this was the Harry Potter, one of the two Champion boys and the only Potter who had been missing after Voldemort's cloak and ashes were found at the remains of Godric's Hollow. Of course the nature of the destruction of Voldemort and the description of Harry Potter where supposed to be a secret, which naturally meant that everybody in the Wizarding world knew about it. Borgin's introspection regarding his visitor was interrupted when he saw the boy open the jewelry case and reach for the gold Ankh.

"Wait! Don't touch that! The Mummy's Curse is instant death for…" Borgin's warning died on his lips as he watched the Potter boy pick the Ankh up, look at it for a second, then proceed to use the sharp point to pick the back of his teeth; all without dying.

"Ahhhh, much better." Harry sighed in pleasure as that niggling little piece of Corner's soul was finally worked out from between his back teeth and then swallowed. Turning to Borgin, Harry raised his eyebrow and politely asked, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Borgin was wide eyed and doing a fish imitation, mouth opening and closing silently as his brain couldn't conceive of what his eyes were telling him. Finally, the shopkeeper sputtered out, "But the ankh, but the curse, but um, but but, I even had to use levitation charms just to move it about the place! Everybody who touched that clasp died due to the famous mummy's curse! You should be dead?"

Harry scrunched up his face before pulling the toothpick/gold stickpin from his mouth before answering, "You mean this old thing? Bah, I've survived the killing curse, this Egyptian Death Curse doesn't even make my mouth tingle, and it's just the thing to get those stubborn souls where they belong." Harry stated before turning back to peruse the books and putting the stick pin back between his lips where he swiveled it back and forth and played with it with his tongue.

Borgin was speechless and almost forgot to breath. _'Survived the Killing curse! Egyptian Death Curse doesn't even make his mouth tingle! Only surviving person from the destruction of the Dark Lord! Ahhhhh!'_ Borgin's thoughts were screaming in fear about this figure in his shop.

"Ahem, excuse me." Harry's statement from right in front of the counter startled Borgin out of his fear addled thoughts and brought his brain screeching to a halt to look aghast at the boy standing before the cash register; Borgin hadn't even realized that Harry had moved across the room.

Harry looked up at Borgin as the man was acting weird; certainly none of Riddle's memories recalled Borgin ever acting like this. Harry shrugged to himself before continuing to talk, "So, I'll take the stick pin, the book on Aztec parsel magic, and this cheap knock imitation of the Necronomicon to see if the rest of it is as humorous an interpretation as the first part I read in it." Harry finished while laying what he wanted to purchase out on the counter.

Borgin just stared at Harry wide eyed, "Gah, gah, gah…" Borgin gurgled, the fear freezing the portion of Borgin's brain that allowed him to form rational logical thoughts and speech.

Harry scrunched up his face and quirked his head to the side. "Are you ok Mr. Borgin?" Harry asked, but upon only receiving the same stuttering reply, Harry raised his hand before the eyes of Mr. Borgin and snapped his fingers twice, "Snap! Snap! Wake up Mr. Borgin, Earth to Mr. Borgin, come in Mr. Borgin." Harry repeated, but to no reaction from the catatonic storekeeper.

Harry sighed and looked down at his purchases, "Fine, well given what you used to price these for, the stick pin should be about ten galleons, the parcel book twenty eight or so, and the Necronomicon joke book should be around thirty or forty for its humor value, so I'll just call it an even eighty galleons and leave then shall I?" Harry looked up at Mr. Borgin, but the storekeeper was still just staring down at Harry in fear.

Harry sighed again before sticking his hand towards his robe, where it disappeared into the fabric, and then pulled out his coin purse. Emptying eighty galleons onto the counter, Harry waved his hand over his new books and shrunk them before depositing them and his coin purse back into his cloak which seemed to absorb the objects. Sticking his new toothpick in his mouth, Harry shook his head in disgust at another example of the stupidity of wizards before exiting the shop.

A half hour later Mr. Borgin would come back to his senses. At which time he would close up his shop early and head over to the Leaky Caldron to get as drunk as possible.

* * *

Harry continued his path down Knockturn Alley, looking at the animals in the window of a pet and potions good store, then politely refused the offers from the prostitutes that hung out of the second story windows or on the front steps of several of the Alley's inn's of ill repute; and by 'hung out' Harry figured it was a literal sense of the word, given that he had seen more than he really wanted to given the figures of some of the 'ladies.'

While somewhat cursing his photographic memory, Harry turned a corner of the windy alley and ran smack dab into the chest of something in the middle of the street.

Stumbling back a step, Harry looked up into the a face that was even more pale complexioned than his own, a face that was smiling down at Harry with some very sharp teeth.

"Hey boys, looks like we won't have to go far for a small snack after all." The lead Vampire said to his companions that were walking along with him.

Not liking to be referred to as 'small,' nor to the insinuation of being a 'snack' Harry frowned, and snapped his finger in front of his mouth.

Like a flint being sparked on a lighter, a thin flame appeared to flicker over the top of Harry's finger, as if from the wick of a candle.

The initial flash of flame had made the lead vampire jump back from Harry, but the initial shock of the flame was soon turned to humor and derision.

"Oh, so the ickl tiny blood-bag can make fire… oh, I'm so scared." The leader said before looking to his friends who chuckled around him.

Harry just shook his head before stating, "Damn undead, just too bloody stupid to stay in their graves…" Before inhaling, a deep breath, and then blowing it out over the flame on his finger.

A giant blast of flame hit the vampire pack as if a dragon had breathed on them, and their mirth filled faces had a moment where their smirks turned to looks of horror before they became immolated towers of fire standing on the street; apparently vampires are very flammable.

Harry continued his rant about stupid undead with a look of disgust on his face, "Always going on and on about being immortal… look at me, I'm so gorgeous and forever young… I'm so wonderful and darkly handsome… look at me, all the girls love me… blah blah blah, good riddance to bad walking corpses." Harry finished.

With a wave of his hand a wind blasted out of the air above the Alley, extinguishing the flames and blowing the left over dust from the vampiric dust off into the night. Spitting on the ground where the Vampire leader had stood, Harry continued his walk down the street completely unconcerned with what had just happened, but muttering to himself about "stuck up corpses that didn't realize they were already dead."

Behind him at the tavern that just happened to look out on where Harry's altercation had taken place, the patrons all did a double check to make sure it wasn't something they had drank, and then thought again that they certainly hoped that what they had just seen was a hallucination brought on by their drinks. Several orders of fire whisky were then offered by the house, as none of the denizens of the Knockturn Alley pub wanted to think about what would happen if there was truly a boy on the loose who could snuff out a pack of vampires in a single breath.

It was a record night for drink sales in Knockturn Alley and at the Leaky Caldron, as where Harry Potter went, chaos was quick to follow.

* * *

**AN: Well, I was so into writing that I finished this chapter and the next one, but you will have to wait of a day or two as I edit it; my beta is still taking her exams. Perhaps if I get lots of reviews I'll even knock out another chapter or two of this story before moving on to updating one of my other works? I'll just have to wait and see how many responses I get, or whether people prefer I work on my other fiction stories. Cheers!**


	9. Chapter 9: Who's Afraid of Death

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN: I was on a roll with the last chapter, so wrote this one also. Actually, I got to the point where the last chapter hit the 12k mark and decided to split it in half to decrease the editing and update time. I hope you enjoy it. Cheers!**

* * *

/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

'_Thought'_

**Chapter 9: Who's Afraid of Death**

"Afraid of death? Not at all. Be a great relief. Then I wouldn't have to talk to you. ~Katharine Hepburn

The rest of the night in Knockturn Alley proceeded as the beginning of it had, thus Harry was in a foul mood by the time the stores had opened up in the morning.

Stomping out of the shadows of Knockturn Alley and into the dawn lit morning of Diagon Alley, Harry stopped to brush the dust off of his robe from where it had landed after he had to kill another couple of vampires. Apparently word had gotten around the alley of what Harry had done to the first Vampire pack, and the other members of their clan were out for Harry's blood; or at least they had started out that way.

After the seventh conjured stake through the heart of a vampire and the ninth immolation via fire, the vampires that spotted Harry decided that running away was the better part of valor. By that point however the frustration of dealing with the vampires had been added to the general affront that Death views all undead, and Harry was pretty much ready to fry any vampire that came his way. Not being content to let them merely flee from him, Harry had bar-b-qued the last four vampires that had fled upon seeing him.

Looking around, Harry scowled at the plump witch in the peacock blue robes that was unlocking the door to 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.'

'_Bah, who needs to waste money on that type of crap._' Harry thought to himself in derision. With that thought, Harry's formerly all black cloak shimmered and changed into a set of black dress robes with a silver and green pattern that appeared to be woven through the edges and on a pattern down his sleeves. Frankly Harry didn't care if it was in fashion at the moment or not, but it certainly made him look wealthy; which by his thinking should mean that he had to deal with less crap.

"Let's see, what was the list of required purchases back in Tommy boy's days." Harry said to himself as he let his eyes pan over the stores that lined the alley; it was still early enough that the street wasn't filled and Harry could easily distinguish where all the stores were rather than having to catch glimpses through a crowd.

The first thing that stuck out to Harry was Ollivander's Wand store. Unfortunately for Mr. Ollivander, it wasn't the wonderful crafting of wands that grabbed Harry's attention; it was a specific wand sitting on a cushion in the front window.

Harry moved forward towards the window of the store where he leaned forward and squinted to look through the dirty window pane to examine the wand on display. "Why that son of a… Thinks he can cheat death does he? Well we'll see about that." Harry spat before turning and tromping into the wand store.

The jingle of the doors bell was followed quickly by the shop's owner sliding into view from where he was standing on a rolling ladder amongst his shelves and on the other side of the store from where Harry had entered.

"Ah Mr. Potter, I wonder when I would see you URKKkkkk…" Ollivander's eerie smirk and odd introductory speech was cut off mid sentence when Harry's hand whipped up and did a 'Darth Vader' imitation; suddenly the wand crafter found himself dangling in mid air with the force of invisible hands picking him up by the throat.

"Think you're too good for death do you Ollivander? Think that nobody would care about your little soul container hidden as a wand core in your display? Well think again mate, you'll live out your allotted years and no more, and you'll enjoy it, do you understand me?" Harry groused as he ignored the dangling choking shop owner and instead made his way to the front window where he picked up the old 'wand' on the cushion. Snapping the wand in front of Ollivander; a wispy bit of a soul fluttered out of where the core should have been and was sucked back into Ollivander's body.

By this point the wandmaker was bug-eyed and turning not a little red in the face, but Harry wasn't done with him.

"Now none of this stupid 'the wand chooses the wizard' song and dance Ollivander. Where's the wand that would have matched Harry Potter if he was raised here in the real world you old crackpot seer? Know that if you point to the wrong one, I'll be sure to put it where the sun doesn't shine and give it a swish and flick before I leave, are we clear?" Harry stated. Harry's already dark mood was getting grumpier after finding out that the wand maker had attempted to gain a longer life through the use of druidic wooden soul containers; which were imitations of how dryads remained immortal as long as their tree survived. Sure it wasn't dark like a horcrux, but it was the nature of the thing; you didn't cheat death and get away with it on Harry's watch. Everybody died some day, and if you were lucky you only had to die once.

Harry walked up to where Ollivander was dangling in the air, waiting for an answer. Unfortunately for Ollivander it took Harry a good twenty seconds to realize that the lack of air and the now purple complexion of Ollivander meant that he couldn't answer at the moment.

'Hrumphing' to himself, Harry waved his hand and the force holding Ollivander up by his throat relaxed, dropping the old man to the floor where he landed on his knees gasping.

"Gasp, pant pant, Third shelf from the left, pant pant, fourth row, fifteenth column, and up two." Ollivander gasped out.

Harry didn't take his eyes off the old con artist; instead Harry waved his hand and floated the selected box off the shelf and into his waiting hands.

Harry opened the box to find an eleven inch holly wand. Picking it up and giving it a swish, Harry and Ollivander were witness to the sound of phoenix song, but it was probably the only time that phoenix song had come out sounding like a funeral dirge or a requiem for the dearly departed.

"Hmmm, brother to Riddle's wand, yes?" Harry asked the wand crafter, only turning his attention from the wand for a moment to see Ollivander nod silently in agreement.

Turning the wand over in his hand a few times, Harry shoved it up the sleeve of his robe before looking at Ollivander again.

"Still seven galleons, or has inflation made the price go up?" Harry questioned bluntly, wanting to get out of the store and on with his day.

"Yes, seven galleons." Ollivander stated, his voice a bit rough from having his throat crushed.

Harry didn't reply verbally, rather he dug his hand into the inside of his robe where he pulled out his coin purse, removed seven galleons, and paid the man.

Before he left, Harry pointed at Ollivander and told him, "Now if I come back here and see, or even hear about you creating another soul container, then your next payment will be two silver denaries for the boatman, is that understood?"

Turning to leave without waiting for an answer, a 'by your leave,' or even a 'have a good day,' Harry opened the door and proceeded out into the street.

Before the door closed however, Harry heard Ollivander mumble under his breath, "We shall expect great things from you Mr. Potter, oh yes, great things, and perhaps terrible too."

The door clicking shut cut off any continued monologuing by the old wand maker, and Harry merely shrugged to himself as he proceeded across the street to the parchment store.

The purchase of paper and quills went quickly, followed by a fast perusal of the book store. Harry picked up a few books for classes as well as two that were supposed biographies of the "Boys of Prophesy" as well as one that was labeled "Longbottom and Potter, the end of the Dark Lord's reign, with annotations by A. Dumbledore." Those would bare further review later, but for now Harry had to pick up a trunk, his potions supplies, and perhaps a familiar. That's when Harry's morning took a swing to the weird side of things.

* * *

Pushing his way in the door of a store that had stacks of trunks and carrying cases in the window, Harry was surprised to hear the sounds of combat rather than the quiet of a suitcase store.

"Ahhh! Get it Get it! Don't let it flank us." Came a frantic voice from the back of the store, which was followed by flashes of light as spells lit the air.

"But I'm bleeding!" Came a second voice in plaintive reply.

"Well cast a bloody cauterizing spell on it and just concentrate on casting patronis spells at it, it's the only thing that seems to work!" The first voice yelled frantically.

"But it bit my bloody hand off." The second voice whined.

Harry casually walked further into the store to see what all the ruckus was about, the sound of the first voice cursing and then commanding the second to assist in the battle. "Just bloody do it and perhaps we can get your hand back when we finally stun the little bugger." The first voice spat.

Harry walked into the back of the store and was surprised to see two men standing on top of stacks of trunks; both were furiously casting spells at a dodging and weaving black trunk that was attempting to get at the two men.

Quirking his head to the side, Harry noted that one of the two men had his left hand bitten off just above the wrist, and the blood on his sleeve matched the blood that was spattered on the lid and faceplate of the midnight black trunk that was dodging and weaving as it floated a half foot in the air. The trunk looked to have black iron scrollwork on it, and the leather material seemed to absorb the light around it as if the light refused to touch the matte black finish.

Harry's contemplation of the trunk was interrupted by said trunk trying to repeatedly ram itself into the stack of trunks that the first store worker was standing on top of. Right before the tilting tower of trunks was due to fall, Harry raised his voice to request service.

"Um hello, I'm looking to purchase a trunk." Harry interrupted the proceedings.

All three of the previous residents of the trunk shop swung to look at Harry; meaning both men and the trunk.

The trunk took one look at Harry, the boy standing on the ground, and its little iron eyes got larger before it charged at Harry.

"Look out!" One man yelled.

"Run away boy!" The second shouted in fear.

Harry on the other hand didn't move as the Trunk flew across the distance towards him.

At the last minute, rather than crashing into Harry, the trunk darted around behind Harry's legs where it took furtive glances at the two men standing on the towers of luggage; growling at the two men who had been casting spells at it.

Harry turned and looked down at the trunk, and patted it on the lid, "There there, no bother now, I won't let them hurt you." Harry told the trunk, which purred under Harry's touch before going back to growl ominously at the two men.

Said store owners hopped off of their refuges and slowly moved towards Harry with their wands leading the way. "Move out of the way boy, that trunk is deadly." The man with two hands stated.

Harry purposefully stepped between the man's wand point and the trunk, "Would you kindly stop casting spells at my new trunk, I don't think it likes it." Harry requested politely as he reached behind himself and scratched the trunk on one of its hinges. The trunk started purring even louder, and then one of the corners floated towards the floor where it tapped the floor in time with Harry's scratching, as if it were a dog whose back leg was kicking.

Both men drew back in surprise, flabbergasted at what they were seeing. Finally the second man, the one without his left hand stated, "You can't have that trunk, it's dangerous! Look what it did to my arm." The man said, shaking his stub at Harry.

Harry stopped scratching the trunk's hinges and looked down at its scroll work metal banding, banding that looked like tiny little eyes had been engraved all over it. "Would you please give the man back his hand?" Harry requested.

The trunk whined in reply, and the little scrollwork eyes seemed to look away from Harry as if the trunk was pouting.

"Now please, if you're good I'll see about getting you a treat and getting you out of this store." Harry cajoled.

The black sea-trunk sighed, before opening its lid and ejecting the missing hand, straight into the face of the man who had lost it. Said trunk then moved up to Harry's leg and nuzzled it while purring again; a long black tongue slid out of the opening of the trunk and licked at Harry's hand to try and get him to pet it again.

Harry patiently patted the trunk on the lid before turning to the two startled men. "I'll take it, so how much for the trunk?" He questioned.

Both men stood goggle eyed at Harry before one stuttered, "But uh, but, but it's made from live lethifolds, and it could kill you? We can't sell that to you, it was only supposed to be an experiment that we would take apart later after seeing if it could be done."

"Nonsense," Harry said, squishing his eyebrows together in consternation and shaking his head in disagreement, "It's a perfectly good trunk, and it seems to like me well enough." Harry finished; the fact that the trunk was again purring while snuggled up to Harry's leg proved his statement true.

Both men looked at each other, they were just going to have to try and take apart the little terror anyway if they didn't sell it; the thing had been a horrible experiment and mistake in judgment come to life. Finally the two men silently nodded to each other.

"Well, since it's made from a dark creature we'll need to know the name of the purchaser for the next of kin, um, I mean incase it ever gets lost and we need to report who it belongs to with the Aurors. Whose name should I put on the release of liability?" The first owner asked while trying to be polite and gloss over his slip of the tongue; the second man ushered for Harry to lead the way with the trunk to the front of the store, pointing the way with the severed hand.

"Please list Harry Potter as the owner." Harry said while turning away and leading towards the front of the store, the trunk following loyally right behind. Both men paused in mid step, their eyes growing large as they looked at each other.

'_Bugger, we just sold a killer trunk to the famous Harry Potter._' Both men thought before cringing when they met each other's eyes. However it wasn't like they could tell the boy no now, they both doubted the trunk would let them live out the day if it wasn't allowed to leave with Harry.

Harry led the way to the front counter where he pulled out the requisite fifty galleons for the 'designer' trunk; both men had laughed nervously when stating that Harry wouldn't need to pay for any additional security charms given the nature of his new trunk.

Harry had just shrugged before pulling his previously shrunken purchases out of his pocket, along with his coin purse, and depositing them in his new trunk. Said trunk gave a burp of appreciation and licked its opening before dutifully following Harry out of the store.

After Harry left, both men looked at each other and one stated, "Time for a liquid lunch at the pub?"

The second one nodded in absolute agreement, "Yep, it might only be ten in the morning, but I'm going to get totally off my face pissed. After that, I'll get my hand reattached."

With that, both men closed up shop and headed towards the nearest pub, and thus Harry Potter had again done his job in adding to the growing number of heavy drinkers in the Wizarding world.

* * *

The walk to the potions shop was prefaced by Harry whistling a happy tune, as there was just something about the darkness and the new found trunk's loyalty and fierce devotion that just made Harry smile. For some reason Harry just felt closer to death and what had been basically his home for the last few years whenever he looked at the trunk.

The trunk in return alternated between gazing loyally up at its new owner and nipping or snarling at any witch or wizard that got too close to Harry. All of this of course drew more attention to Harry, and soon word was issuing up and down Diagon Alley that Harry Potter had returned to the Wizarding world. The attention brought about by Harry's happy whistling through the Alley, and his trunks actions, was soon added to by the whispered rumors coming from the Leaky Caldron; where it was found that several of the owners of stores that Harry had visited could be counted on for loose lips when they were drunk. Nobody in the Wizarding alleys could remember the last time they had seen so many obviously sloshed patrons before noon on a work day, especially when said patrons were the main owners of stores and it was currently two weeks before the children were due to leave for Hogwarts, and it was a prime sales time.

As the morning turned to early afternoon, the population of the Alley sky rocketed, as people who weren't originally planning on doing their back to school shopping heard that Harry was there and decided to make it a bit of a celebrity watching expedition as well as shopping.

All this meant that Harry had a rather larger than expected audience when he entered 'Slug and Jiggers Apothecary;' so much so that Harry's trunk took a moment to snip at and force back the crowd of wizards and witches that was moving into what it felt was too close to Harry.

Looking around the store at the barrels of slimy toads tongues, black beetle eyes, snake fangs and assorted furs, hairs, feathers, plants and body parts, Harry turned to his trunk and politely asked, "Would you mind taking notes while I gather the supplies?"

His trunk made a little yip sound before the top of the trunk opened enough for long tongue like protrusions to slide out carrying a piece of parchment and a dictation quill that Harry had picked up at the scriveners store. The audience was amazed to see the actions of the trunk, but even more so when Harry started walking around the room talking out loud and waving his hand at the barrels around him.

"Eye of newt, two for one sale." Harry said to himself, as not only did two eyes float out of the barrel and hover in the air, then they took on a life like quality and began to look around as if they were alive.

A most curious thing happened, for as the eyes looked around the room, first optic nerves grew out of the backs of the eyes, then the optical muscles and blood capillaries started to grow from them. Soon the head of a newt could be seen to be fleshing out, followed by the body and tail, and then all of it being glossed over with skin before a living newt fell to the floor and attempted to scurry away.

The audience was stunned senseless, so much so that not even a tentacle whipping out of the mouth of the trunk and swallowing the escaping newt drew a sound from their throats; though one lady did faint.

Harry continued dictating his purchases and reanimating the once necrotic flesh and plants, his trunk loyally swallowing his purchase order while the dictation quill continued to write down his list of ingredients on the parchment that was sitting on the lid of the trunk.

"Wait! Wait, what are you doing with my ingredients? Even more, Why are you doing that to my ingredients, your ruining them!" The irate Mr. Jigger demanded; pushing his way through the crowd of people who were no longer even pretending to shop and now were just watching gape jawed at the magic Harry was performing wandlessly.

Harry stopped to briefly look over his shoulder at the apothecary's owner, "I prefer fresh ingredients, and I'm afraid that your selection was becoming a bit ripe. That would explain the why, as for the what, well you know the saying 'the good lord giveth and the good lord taketh away'…" Harry replied, looking up at the store's owner between bringing a serpent back to life before moving on to examine the stewed flesh eating slugs.

From the bewildered look on the shopkeepers face, Harry figured out that no, the shop owner wasn't familiar with that particular phrase.

Sighing in exasperation, Harry waved negligently to preface his statement, "It's a death and life thing…" Harry started, but the continued blank stare told him that the current example wasn't going to go anywhere, thus he tried again. "Ok, the simplified version, got hit with a killing curse, survived it, now I can do neat magic; though I wouldn't suggest other's trying to gain the same ability, could be hazardous to your health." Harry stated.

The horrified look on the store manager's face when Harry mentioned he had been hit by the killing curse was coupled with the man fainting when Harry explained that he had survived said killings curse.

Harry sighed to himself as his shoulders slumped. Taking a breather for a second, Harry turned around and once again went about picking out and reanimating the former potions ingredients. Only the freshest of ingredients would do for Harry's potions; he was particular like that.

By the time Harry was finished, one of the witches in the audience had been nice enough to ennervate Mr. Jigger, and the owner of the store had hidden himself behind his counter.

The throng of people parted for Harry and his trunk as if they were doing a reenactment of Moses parting the Red Sea; and Harry and his trunk easily made it up to the front counter where Harry laid his list down.

Mr. Jigger took the list with shaking hands, before looking silently at the list, then back at Harry, then at the list, then down at the trunk, then back a the list, and finally at Harry.

The silence was starting to perturb Harry, so he offered, "Would you like to count the ingredients to make sure the list is right?" Harry asked politely, but with a bit of a scowl on his face.

The trunk opened its lid wide open, and the mass of teeming life could be seen to try to escape, but black leather like tentacles continued to whip out and snag the ingredients before they could hop, slither, slide, or climb out of the trunk.

Mr. Jigger looked decidedly peaked and a little green around the gills, and decided that just shaking his head in the negative was the best way to do it; there were no telling what would have come out of his mouth if he deigned to open it.

Harry sighed, and his trunk handed Harry his coin purse, from which Harry pulled the proper amount of galleons, sickles, and knuts that he had listed on his parchment, and then proceeded out of the store; the crowd once again parting for him, then trickling out into the street to watch.

Upon exiting the store, Mr. Jigger flipped his store's sign from 'open' to 'closed' and decided that a drink down at the pub was in order to fix his problems; maybe more than one drink.

* * *

The trip to the caldron store went quickly, and Harry decided to skip the quidditch supply store in favor of trying to hurry up and finish his errands. The whole time that Harry was shopping, the crowd following him got larger and larger. As the size of the crowd increased, so did Harry's frustration and scowl increase in an a proportional equation. As Harry's frustration and scowl increased, the lower the temperature in the space around Harry became, the temperature dropping and the dark aura growing with Harry's displeasure at being the focal point of the Wizarding world.

Finally, just before entering the Owl Emporium, Harry swung on the crowd, "Don't you people have anything better to do than to spend your day stalking an orphan?" He growled.

The people who had been following along stopped, eyes growing large as they looked at Harry, and then at each other, before either getting embarrassed at getting caught and scurried off or they began to do a better job of pretending to shop.

Harry just harrumphed, and proceeded into the Owl Emporium; his trunk took an extra moment in the doorway to growl menacingly at the crowd before following its master into the store.

With the closing of the door, the crowd of wizards and witches all looked at each other and silently agreed that maybe it would be best to wait outside before continuing their gawking of the young Potter scion who was quickly being labeled "The-Boy-Who-Lived" by the whisperings in the alley.

Inside the store, the sensation of Harry's cold dark aura was magnified due to the fact that the summer sun wasn't in direct completion with it at the moment. Said aura had an immediate effect on the birds in the store, for no sooner had Harry entered the room then all of the myriad types of birds immediately quieted and tried to back themselves away as quickly as possible so as not to be noticed.

Harry frowned at the reaction, which only caused his aura to flare that much more. Several of the birds began to shake in fear as that animal instinct that warns that death was near was flaring with unimaginable strength.

Harry looked around and saw that most of the owls were cowering away, not looking at him. Finally he looked up and to the left, and saw a large snowy white owl who was looking large eyed at Harry.

"Are you interested in going home with me girl?" Harry asked hopefully, assuming that it was a female as it looked so beautiful; not that the beauty of an owl distinguished gender in any way.

The owl continued to look at Harry wide eyed, but then seemed to shake its head no from side to side before backing up into the shadows of the nook it was standing in.

Harry sighed and looked around, still hoping to find a bird, as no doubt it would make things easier to complete business while stuck going to Hogwarts.

Looking around at the assorted birds, Harry was about to give up when he heard a fluttering of wings and a weight settled on his shoulder. Glancing to his left shoulder, Harry saw a large dark crow with aspects of almost blue colors in its feathers sitting on his shoulder. It had landed there, and was gazing at Harry with one of its black eyes, beak resolutely pointed ahead.

Harry smirked, "A bit clichéd for death to have a crow as a familiar don't you think?" Harry joked.

"Caw!" The crow answered in seeming agreement before bending down and preening at one of its sharp clawed feet before giving off another 'caw' and flapping its wings while remaining latched to Harry's shoulder; as if the bird was telling Harry to go on and get out of there already.

Harry just chuckled to himself before heading up to the counter to pay, once again dealing with a near comatose shop owner who was scared of what was going on in his shop. Harry ignored the normal incompetence of wizards, paid for his new bird, and exited the shop promising to come up with a name for the bird sooner rather than later.

Exiting the shop, Harry's nose was met with a waft of the smell of lunch coming from the Leaky Caldron that was just down the way. The answering rumble of his stomach seemed to Harry as if it had made the earth shake beneath him.

"Bugger, I'm starving." Harry said in realization, stopping to think about the last time he had eaten. "Wow, it must have been back in Egypt, that nice mix of fruits and spiced wine that Amotep gave me before I confronted the book of the dead. No wonder I'm hungry, I haven't eaten in thousands of years." Harry said in consternation, his stomach rumbling again to encourage him to go eat.

"Well, that settles it. Let's see if we can get some food, shall we boys?" Harry questioned, looking at first his crow and then at his trunk; which answered Harry back with a corresponding 'caw' and rumble of metal latches.

So Harry Potter made his way into the Leaky Caldron after a long morning of shopping, looking forward to getting back to the normal things of life such as eating food.

* * *

**AN: Chapter 9 is out, so yeah this story is going somewhere again. I have chapter 10 and possibly part of 11 outlined, just need to get it written. Probably going to work on a few chapters of my other stories first before updating this one again, though I do accept bribery in the form of reviews.**

**AN: A note about my Harry. Death has many forms, and is many things to many people. For all intents and purposes, my Harry is Death. With that said, my Harry might not be what you see death as, but you can rest assured that he will fit into the mold of some idea of what death is. Death is seen as vengeful and merciful, unfair and fair, somber and humorous, caring and uncaring. I'm not planning on this being primarily a humorous tale. That said, death can be very humorous; if you doubt me, go read the online 'Darwin Awards.' That's just a little idea of how I think of my Harry when I write him. Take from my explanation what you will. Cheers.**


	10. Chapter 10: Eating Death's Food

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own HP, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN: Chapter 10. Three things with this chapter: one, this is not a slash story, I don't write slash so please don't ask for it any more when you message me. Two, I don't even know if this will be a pairing story at all, because who could be a match for the physical manifestation of Death? Three, I write because I enjoy it. I felt like writing this today, so I wrote it in between work and working on chapters for my other stories. Please don't send me messages threatening to not read my story if I don't update it any faster, I'll only block you and feel less likely to post on this story. So enough of that bullocks stuff, let's get on with enjoying the next chapter.**

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* * *

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/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

'_Thought'_

"Speech"

**Chapter 10: Eating Death's Food**

"They ate lunch with their friend and dinner with their ancestors in paradise."

~Boccaccio regarding plague victims.

The Wizarding world was in chaos, all of it currently being created by a 'boy' named Harry Potter. It wasn't that Harry intended to cause the chaos, no, it was simply the effect of him not caring one lick what anybody thought about him. Growing up to be an adult in seemingly an instant is not conducive to creating a 'normal' citizen, not in any culture in the world whether it be muggle or magical. The fact that Harry's initial growth took place at the death of his parents gave him an understandably darker perspective of life. The fact that he was pretty much Death in the flesh and had witnessed and participated in the demise of millions of people throughout time, not to mention the judgment of their souls, just meant that he was singularly unimpressed with the reaction of the wizards around him. Fame meant nothing to the dead, wealth meant nothing to the dead, neither did fear nor power for that matter. Harry was death, thus he was absolutely blasé about the whole morning and prior night. He hadn't planned out his interactions with people, and he didn't care to start now while he was trying to enjoy his first meal in centuries.

That pretty much explains why Harry didn't waiver from his movement towards the bar when he walked into the Leakey Caldron from the Diagon Alley side. Harry, with his crow on his shoulder and his trunk tagging along at his feet, didn't even move a step out of the way as the drunken patrons took one look at who had walked into the bar and proceeded to flee as quickly as possible; St. Mungo's would have a record number of simultaneous splinchings to deal with that afternoon, as wizards were not supposed to apparate when drunk.

Harry moved through the fleeing throngs of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys' patrons and shop owners and casually made his way to the bar. Pulling himself up onto a bar stool, Harry ignored the darkly dressed man on his left and called out to the bartender.

Tom smiled, realizing quickly that here was the celebrity that all of his patrons had been talking about, and in classic friendly fashion, greeted Harry.

"Good morning Lad, you must be Mr. Potter. What can I do for you today?" Tom stated in greeting.

Harry looked at a menu that was lying open on the abandoned seat to the right of him and ordered, "I'll take ten of your steaks, well done please. I like my meat dead." Harry requested before looking at the taps to see if there was anything he wanted to drink.

In eating the souls of adults, Harry had developed the taste for heavy stout beers and ales, yet he didn't think that they would have anything he enjoyed let alone allow a 'boy' his apparent age drink anything harder than butter beer. It also wouldn't do to age himself in front of the crowd, as it would make things more difficult for getting those bloody OWLs out of the way.

'_Why do I even want to go about living in this world is still a mystery to me, but I guess that fate would be a bit pissed if I didn't finish off old Tommy boy. Oh well, butter beer it is then.'_ Harry thought to himself with a sigh before ordering a pint of butter beer.

"Coming right up lad." Tom stated with a smile, and quickly pulled a draft of butter beer and slid it over to Harry with an expert slide that had it in Harry's hands without so much as a drop spilling. Tom then left through a door into the back of the pub to grab Harry's order.

Harry turned to his crow and trunk, and stated, "I may be here for a while, why don't the two of you go upstairs and pick us out a room. It would be good to have a private space where I don't have to worry about being gawked at. When you are done, why don't one of you come down here and let me know which room and I'll work out the details with Tom." Harry finished. His crow answered with a 'caw' before flapping down to land on the floating trunk. The trunk and the crow then proceeded to float out of the main room of the pub and up the stairs to the dining area, nipping at any proprietors that got in the way.

Harry took a sip of his pint, and then smiled when his stomach gurgled some more. _'It is going to be fun to eat again. I forgot how good food tastes.'_ Harry thought to himself.

Unfortunately, Harry's pleasant introspection was interrupted by the inebriated gent on the stool next to him making a snide remark about Harry drinking alone.

"You should watch yourself boy, too much of that could end up making you a doddering fool," came the snarky statement that oozed from the hook nosed man, "What would your parent's think of their boy drinking alone in a pub. What a shame." The man sneered down at the miniature image of his arch rival.

Harry sneered back at the greasy haired man with the pail complexion, "Who are you, my father? Bugger off." Harry snapped back in reply.

Seeing that Severus Snape was drunk and that Harry Potter had just reminded Snape that Lily had chosen James over Severus for marriage, it's understandable that he made a mistake in his next few actions. "Listen hear boy, that's Professor Snape to you, and I won't be back talked by some snot nosed spoiled brat." Snape said, spinning a bit drunkenly in his seat and pointing his finger in Harry's face.

Harry saw the hand spinning towards him, and quick as a wink Harry's hand shot out and grabbed the professor by the wrist. To the casual observer it seemed that Harry had blurred before catching the professor's arm in a grab that made the professor's hand turn even more white from the pressure. But what they didn't see is that Harry Potter, who held a Mastery in Death and Soul Magic to name a few, had just come in contact with Snape's Dark Mark.

Now Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, may have been good at the dark arts. Old Voldy might have even been a dab hand at soul magic, but he wasn't a Master of both forms of magic. So though Voldemort had created the dark mark and tied it to the soul of his followers, he didn't know half the things that it could do if only the mark was manipulated by the right hands. In this case, Snape's dark mark was in Harry's hand.

Harry felt the natural pulse of the soul tie that was knotted into the dark mark and that brief touch was enough for Harry to read exactly what Voldemort had unwittingly created. Not only did Harry already have the knowledge from Voldemort's soul regarding the creation and control of the mark, but Harry realized what one could do if they could just get their hands in contact with one of the people who had allowed their soul to be leashed.

Just like a leash on a dog, or even better a muzzle or choke chain, the soul knot in the dark mark could be drawn out and used to control the marked individual if the marked individual was touched by one who had mastered soul magic and the dark arts. All it took was a touch of Harry's hand.

Harry was about to snark back, but rather than the frown on his face, his lips quirked up in a dark smile.

Snape tried to force Harry to unhand him, but no matter how much Severus attempted, his arm refused to listen to his mental commands to move.

Harry smirked, his eyes gleaming a bit evilly, "It's the summer _professor_." Harry stated, dragging out the word 'professor' before continuing. "So for all I care, you can go jump in the Thames." Harry stated with a sneer to match Snape's. "Better yet, I hear the water is nice this time of year. Why don't you go take a dip in the Thames." Harry stated, adding a bit of command to flow into the Dark Mark on Snape's arm.

Harry sat back and released Snape's arm.

Severus looked at Harry, and his eyes got large, right as Snape's own magic forcefully apparated him to the middle of the muddy polluted Thames River in downtown London.

Harry smiled evilly to himself before wiping his hand on an abandoned napkin to get rid of the remainder of Snape's grease that was on Harry's hand after touching the professor.

Being a moment of pleasant happenstance, as soon as Harry laid down the napkin, Tom arrived from the back of the shop with a platter of steaks and set them down before Harry.

"That's a pretty big meal for a boy your size lad, are you expecting company?" Tom questioned with a smile.

Harry looked up from the steaks, already his mouth was starting to salivate at the smell of the food. Swallowing to clear his mouth, Harry answered, "No, it will just be me…" He started, only to be interrupted by a man in a brown bowler hat and brown tweed robes who bustled into the pub and hustled over to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, It's so good to have you back in the Wizarding world. Why when my secretary told me that you were back visiting, I simply dropped all of my afternoon appointments and rushed over here to greet you." The man said quickly grabbing Harry's hand away from where it was reaching for a fork, and then quickly pumped Harry's hand up and down in a handshake.

Harry quirked a look at the man, "Can I help you Mister?" The question was inherent to the tone of Harry's voice.

Minister of Magic Fudge looked at Harry like he was crazy for a second, '_for who didn't know who Minister Fudge was_?' thought the Minister.

Quickly sliding his disbelief into a politicians smile, the type used for kissing babies and shaking hands for bribes, Fudge replied, "Why I'm sorry Mr. Potter, you really have been out of circulation haven't you? I'm the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge." The minister stated before he saw that multiple steaks had been set down before Harry, and mistakenly believed that one of them was for him.

Continuing before Harry could get a word in edgewise, Fudge's eyes lit up, "Ah lunch! Thank you Tom, how nice of you to provide me with a lunch by which I can enjoy with Mr. Potter." The Minister stated before picking up a knife and fork and beginning to eat one of Harry's steaks.

Harry frowned, and then bit out, "Help yourself why don't you." He said, a bit growly.

Of course Fudge, not being the brightest goose in the gander, smiled back at Harry for his nice offer, "Why thank you, I will." Fudge said before starting to eat one of the steaks, oblivious to Harry's sarcasm as well as the fact that he had just stolen Harry's silverware.

Harry looked up at Tom and waved for another pair of silverware, and Tom was nice enough to shrug an apology before bringing Harry a clean fork and knife.

By now the Pub was starting to fill up again for as the previous drunken patrons fled and the celebrity watching crowds of 'shoppers' filtered into the Leaky Caldron. Along with the influx of crowd into the Leaky Caldron flooed a man with long blonde hair, an elegant snake headed cane and expensive black Acromantula silk robes.

Fudge, ever the one to play to the masses, was smiling to the crowd as the people watched the Minister of Magic eat with one of the two Boys-Of-Prophesy; specifically the one who was being called 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.' In his looking around, Fudge noticed Lucius Malfoy striding towards him, and waved his chief adviser and secondary source of income to join them.

"Lucius my good man, it's a pleasure to see you. Won't you join Mr. Potter and me for lunch? Lord Malfoy, may I introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, this is Lucius Malfoy. Lord Malfoy is an important figure in our world." Fudge stated, inviting Lucius to eat Harry's lunch along with the Minister while again interrupting Harry's attempts at eating.

Lucius nodded before sitting down on the other side of Harry. "Why what do we have here?" Lord Malfoy asked rhetorically, "Welcome back to the Wizarding world Mr. Potter." Lucius said with a slight superior smile while sticking his hand out to shake Harry's.

Harry, frustrated that he still hadn't had a chance to eat a bite of his food, set down his fork and knife and shook Lucius's hand. Harry recognized Lord Malfoy from the knowledge that had come from Tom Riddle, yet held no real hard feelings towards the man other than knowing that Lucius Malfoy was a sneaky, murdering Death Eater bastard who would literally kill his own father to move ahead in life; for that in fact was what Lucius had done to attain his Lordship.

'_So maybe I dislike him for having the nerve to suggest he eats death, but it would be too much of a bother to snuff him out here and now.'_ Harry thought to himself as he painted a smile on his face and shook Lucius's hand, "A pleasure to meet you Lord Malfoy." Harry said politely, though it didn't meet his eyes when he said it.

Lucius gave Harry a calculative look as he shook the boy's hand. There was something about the lad that screamed at Malfoy's love of the dark arts and the thrill of the kill. Lucius shook off the feeling and nodded before replying, "The pleasure is mine Mr. Potter." With that, Lucius released Harry's hand and slid out his wand where he flicked it at a rolled set of silverware and Accio'd the silverware off of another patron's table without so much as a 'by your leave.' With that, Lord Malfoy took a bite out of another of Harry's steaks.

Harry internally growled, _'I must not kill them all… I must not kill them all…'_ He chanted to himself like a mantra in his mind due to his frustration.

Harry took a deep breath to center himself, and then forced a smile on his face while reaching to start eating his steak. Cutting a piece and sticking it in his mouth, Harry realized that the meat was both cold already, and not cooked well done. Harry chewed the cold undercooked meat in his mouth with a bit of disgust before swallowing.

Looking at the remaining eight steaks, Harry set aside his knife and fork before his new wand slid out of the sleeve of his robe and into Harry's hand. Pointing his wand at the steaks, Harry whispered and a jet of flames blasted out of the front of his wand to bathe the steaks in fire.

Both Lucius and Cornelius leapt off their stools and way from the counter wide eyed in surprise as they watched Harry pass the blast of flame continuously from one plate to the next as he singed the hell out of his lunch.

"Mmm mm mmMr. Potter! What do you think you are doing?" Cornelius blustered wide eyed.

Harry turned to look incredulously at the Minister of Magic, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking my steaks. I ordered them well done, not medium and cold. I specifically stated that I like my meat dead." Harry stated as the whole time his wand meticulously burned the outside of each of the remaining eight steaks without Harry even watching what he was doing.

Both men stared at Harry, shocked that the boy would know such magic, possibly dark, let alone that he would brazenly flaunt the breach of the underage magic restriction laws.

Lord Malfoy was the first to speak after Harry's statement. As Lucius watched Harry deftly flick his wand one more time and turn off the flame before inserting it up Harry's sleeve, Lucius cleared his throat and replied, "I think what the minister is trying to say is that you have just broken the law against underage magic use. In fact, if my sources are correct, you've been using magic all morning since you received your wand." Lucius stated succinctly, hoping that he could use this situation to do a 'favor' for the boy by getting him out of trouble; thus securing some loyalty from the lad.

Harry frowned before returning to pick up his fork and knife. Cutting off a piece of the now well done steak, he stuck it in his mouth and gave an almost moan of delight as the fully cooked and warm meat hit his taste buds; this is what he had missed. Mumbling around the bite of food in his mouth, Harry answered, "No I didn't, break the law that is. I'm emancipated so can use magic. Besides, I haven't eaten since I arrived back from getting my Masteries." Harry replied between chewing. Harry then plowed into his meal, almost miraculously devouring the nine ounce steak in the time it took the minister and Lucius Malfoy to rationalize what Harry had just told them.

Both men sat down, but their steaks were now ignored, "You mean to tell me that you have already completed your Mastery in a subject, let alone more than one?" Lucius pointedly asked with a quirk of an elegant eyebrow.

Harry took a big mouthful of the potatoes that had come with the steak, and hummed a 'Yum' sound and smiled before swallowing and answering Malfoy. "Yes, Masteries in Death, Soul Magic, Dark Arts, and Blood Magic, as well as some knowledge in other subjects." Harry replied nonchalantly as he finished his second steak and helping of mashed potatoes and went on to his third steak.

Both men were shocked, absolutely shocked. Not only that the boy had masteries, but in such dark and illegal subjects.

"Mr. Potter! It's illegal to learn any of those dark magic!" Cornelius wailed, images of him having to lock up one of the Boys-of-Prophecy going through his head.

Meanwhile Lucius Malfoy was almost salivating at the chance to have control of a boy who had such knowledge. Harry would be a boon and potentially great ally when the Dark Lord returned. All Lucius needed to do was secure the boy's loyalty or grasp control of the lad.

Harry negligently waved away the Minister's concerns, "Well I obviously didn't learn it here then. Where and when I learned it, it was totally legal. I filed them with Gringotts and you can ask them if you have questions." Harry stated before digging into his eighth steak.

Savoring his last steak, Harry tuned out the blustering of the Minister of Magic. Only a mention about his deceased parents drew back Harry's attention.

"But Mr. Potter, what would your parents say about your dark magic masteries! The Potters have been a house of light magic for centuries! Besides, those Masteries aren't recognized; you will still have to take your OWL exams to be considered an adult." The Minister huffed, quite red in the face.

Harry turned slightly to look at the Minister while enjoying another bite of steak, "I don't think they would say anything, they're dead." Harry stated, staring right at the Minister until he had finished chewing and could answer fully, "Just because they aren't recognized, doesn't mean I'm not an adult in the eyes of magic and Wizarding Britian." Harry stated, and waved his hand over the back of his knuckles, causing his family rings to appear.

Harry continued over the stunned look of Fudge, "As you can see, I hold my family's seats and have claimed my inheritance as is my right. Besides, it's not nice to talk about the dead." Harry bit out, a bit annoyed at the scene Fudge was causing while Harry was trying to enjoy what part of his lunch hadn't been already stolen. He wasn't about to eat any of the steak that Malfoy or Fudge had nibbled on already.

Lucius thought quickly, and then as smooth as silk stated, "Speaking of your dearly departed parents, I'm sure they would want you to be cared for at your age, even if you are emancipated. Cornelius, I suggest that Mr. Potter stays at Malfoy Manor until September first and his trip to Hogwarts." Lucius said with a smile that wouldn't melt butter, at the same time he made a slight movement that allowed the coins in his coin purse to make a clinking sound that was sure to inspire Fudge to agree.

"After all, it would give Harry a chance to get to know some people his age. He could meet Draco, and Narcissa is always going on about wanting another child. Perhaps we could look into having young Lord Potter being a ward of house Malfoy." Lucius said with a smile.

Harry wheeled on Lucius and glared, "That won't be necessary Lord Malfoy. I am more than capable of taking care of myself, and as a Lord of an Ancient and Noble house let alone the Duke of Gryffindor, I will not become the ward of anybody. Is that clear?" Harry finished, almost in a hiss.

"Now now Harry my boy, we simply can't have somebody of your age running around without a proper place to stay. What were you planning on doing for housing if you didn't stay with the Malfoys?" Cornelius questioned, trying to get Harry to agree as Fudge clearly wanted the 'campaign contribution' that Lucius was hinting at with the jingling of gold galleons; Fudge would recognize that sound anywhere and probably from a mile away.

Harry swung to glare at the Minister and gave the man a truly dark look, "I believe you should be addressing me as Duke Gryffindor or Lord Potter-Peverell if you continue down the path you are treading. I will state it plainly, I will neither be going to stay with the Malfoys nor any other family unless I so choose." Harry spat at the minister.

Lucius reached forward and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder in an approximation of a fatherly pat, "I insist Lord Potter. It really would be for the best…" Lucius started, only to be interrupted as Harry seized his wrist tightly while whipping out his wand and swinging on Lucius.

Harry's wand spun in a blur, and two spells quickly shot from it to surround Harry and Lucius, cutting off the ability of people to view what they were doing as well as muffling the sounds of anything Harry and Mr. Malfoy said to each other.

"Now sssseee here Luciussss." Harry literally hissed, bits of parceltongue slipping from his mouth. With each hiss, the dark mark on Lucius's arm came alive and made him feel like the skin on his body was being peeled off with a cheese grater before fire ants were allowed to crawl inside his veins.

Lucius cringed, now in a bit of fear as his muscles and nerves locked up from the agony that was now growing to be on par with a Crucio from the Dark Lord. Through the pain, Harry's words drilled home.

"I do not have a specific problem with you, or your houssssse." Harry hissed, locking Lucius with a dark look and keeping the death eater locked in a rigor of pain, "But be warned, if you try and control me, I will desssstroy you and all you hold dear. Now you will resssscind your offersss and leave. Am I undersssstood?" Harry spat, squeezing Lucius's arm tighter.

The increased pressure made Lord Malfoy's wrist bones grind together in agony that was added to the pain that was already wracking his body. Malfoy could only nod in agreement, the shear dark magic that was coming off of the boy was like a cold block of ice that was swallowing up the warmth; making the skin on Malfoy's wrist feel immediately chaffed and raw as if frostbitten from Harry's touch.

"Good." Harry stated, his evil smirk turning into the smile of an innocent boy just as he released Malfoy's wrist. "Now smile and tell the Minister that I will not be leaving with you, then leave the pub so I can finish my lunch." Harry commanded.

And suddenly it was like the world returned. Harry's privacy spells canceled out without so much as a flick of a wand and a shaken Lucius Malfoy used all of his Slytherin skills to force a controlled smile to his face before addressing the anxious Minister of Magic.

"I do believe, ahem, that Lord Potter and I have come to an agreement." Lucius stated trying to save some face, "He will not be coming to stay with me, and I agree with him that he should be allowed to stay wherever he likes, as a Lord or Duke of an Ancient house is privileged to do so." Lucius continued, trying to not shake from the vestiges of pain that still rent at his body.

Cornelius Fudge was confused by the change in the situation, as well as a little alarmed that he might not get the bribe he wanted, "Are you sure Lucius? I'm sure we could work something…" Fudge started.

"No no! Absolutely alright. I was mistaken. Lord Potter is more than capable of looking after himself, I'm sure. Now I'm late to an appointment, goodbye Fudge, we will speak again soon. Goodbye Lord Potter, enjoy the rest of your lunch." Lucius replied, cringing a bit as he stood up and tried not to let his legs give out on him as the muscles in his legs were spasming from the pain that Harry had caused. Malfoy quickly limped out of the room and actually using his cane for its original purpose.

Harry just smiled at the Minister and then went back to finishing off his last steak.

Fudge sat there for a moment, and his little political brain was wracking itself to try and figure out a way to use the political power that this boy wielded.

"Well, how would you like to stay at my house until September first?" Fudge started, grasping at straws. "After all, it is a rather large house and the taxpayers were so nice to give it to me…" The Minister started, only to also get distracted when he was called out to from behind.

"Ah, Minister Fudge, just the man I was looking for." Came an older reserved grandfatherly statement from behind Cornelius.

Fudge turned, and smiled at Dumbledore, "Oh, there you are Albus. I'm sorry I had to cancel our appointment this afternoon, but it's not every day that Harry Potter returns to the Wizarding World. We were just speaking about what housing he might want to take advantage of before going to Hogwarts." Fudge finished to Dumbledore.

Only Dumbledore wasn't listening, he was too busy staring at Harry, eyes twinkling, and thinking that the day had just come up Aces for him as his second Boy-of-Prophesy was finally within his grasp. Plans and counter plans that had fallen into the dusty back roads of his mind were dusted off and brought forward; plans to create a weapon and a pawn out of the Potter boy flew through his mind; all for the Greater Good of course. The only problem was that Dumbledore wasn't quiet the master occlumens that he thought he was.

Harry had briefly breezed through some books that mentioned Dumbledore, and that added to the bits and bobs of knowledge that Harry had pulled from the magical souls he had eaten since reappearing in Wizarding Britain; namely the squib cutpurse and the goblin. Frankly, that Harry was a bit distrustful of Albus Dumbledore was an understatement. Then again, Harry didn't really trust anybody given he had experienced the deaths of thousands of those who had been stabbed in the back, or front, by family members and friends let alone 'great people.'

As Albus's thoughts were brought to the forefront of his mind, Harry Potter gazed up at the old man's twinkling eyes and in an instant caught bits and pieces of flashes of thoughts that leaked through the Headmaster's mental shields. What Harry saw weren't full plans or thoughts, but they were enough to let Harry know that this man shouldn't be trusted.

"Harry my boy; it's good to see you again. We've missed you these many years. Where have you been lad?" Dumbledore questioned, putting on his best grandfatherly airs and giving Harry the full Dumbledore smile and twinkle eyes.

Harry played it safe, "I'm sorry, my name is Duke Harry Potter-Gryffindor-Peverell, or Lord Potter for short, who are you sir?" Harry asked while stretching out a hand to shake. Harry's statement was done pleasantly though he already knew the answer; the statement was really more of a power play by Harry to set Dumbledore off balance to have an advantage in future dealings.

Only a slight halt in the twinkling of Albus's eyes gave away to Harry that his statement had caught the old man off guard. Still, Albus hadn't risen to his position of power by being slow, so quickly rebounded.

Taking Harry's hand and giving it a shake, Albus replied, "It's good to meet you lad. What was this I heard about you looking for a house to stay in before attending Hogwarts? I assumed you would be staying on one of your properties or with your family." Albus stated, hoping to bait a trap for Harry with his words about 'family'.

Harry's eyebrow rose, he wasn't familiar with the idea that he had any family alive. Realizing that something wasn't right, but still curious, Harry questioned, "Excuse me, family? To my knowledge I'm the last of the Potters." Harry posited.

Dumbledore smiled, _'Success!'_ Albus thought before answering Harry in his traditional grandfatherly tone, "That is true Mr. Potter, however your Mother's sister is still alive. She lives with her husband and a son about your age; wouldn't you rather stay with them and get to know them?" Dumbledore questioned benevolently.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and slowly replied, "Sure… I guess so. It shouldn't hurt anything." Harry answered, nodding his head as he convinced himself. '_After all, why shouldn't I meet my last living immediate family.'_ Harry thought to himself, _'What could go wrong?'_

"Excellent." Dumbledore stated before turning to Cornelius, "I'll just floo your secretary to set up our appointment. I really do hope that you would rethink your stance on this latest muggle security act Minister."

"Well then, that's settled." Fudge stated, a bit forlornly at losing out on the chance to gain a bit of control on Harry Potter. The Minister turned to Dumbledore and answered while smiling down at Harry, "Let's not bore Lord Potter with a bunch of trivial politics Albus, we can talk about it later. You go introduce young Mr. Potter to his family." Cornelius answered while finishing up his lunch and putting on his bowler hat and leaving; without paying for the lunch.

Harry just shrugged, and stuck his fingers to his lips before giving a shrill whistle.

The glasses around Harry cracked, as a whistle that sounded more like a Banshee's cry than a normal whistling sound shrieked across the room.

The patrons of the pub were stunned and cringed at the sound. The day had been decidedly weird, and Harry Potter was almost unlike anything they had expected or seen before. The way the boy cast magic around like it was nothing was astonishing, and his nonchalant statements about dark magic or Masteries of magic at the apparent age of eleven were confusing. Everything they had ever read about Harry Potter, which was notably mostly speculation since nobody knew where he had been, had suggested that he would be more like Neville Longbottom; raised and trained by Albus Dumbledore to be the defenders of the Light and the last bastion between the people and the dark creatures and wizards of the world. This Harry Potter was nothing of the sort, a fact that was further drilled home by the crow that flew into the room to land on Harry's shoulder along with the floating black trunk that followed dutifully behind.

Albus gave Harry's trunk a bit of a worrying glance as the trunk growled back at the ancient wizard in return. Turning to Harry, Dumbledore questioned, "Are you ready my boy?"

Harry gave a bit of an internal growl at the use of the term 'boy' to refer to Harry; Harry knew that the headmaster was doing it on purpose. However Harry merely nodded while pulling out several galleons to pay for the lunch before turning to stand beside the headmaster.

"We are going to visit the Dursleys, your Mother's sister's family, who live in Surrey. Now grab a hold of your trunk and your bird and I will side along apparate us there." Dumbledore commanded.

Harry silently shrugged, held out his hand to his trunk which wrapped a tentacle around Harry's wrist, while the still unnamed crow stayed on Harry's shoulder.

Then with a 'Pop', Harry Potter's first trip to Diagon and Knockturn Alleys came to an end; as he disappeared to travel to his Aunt's house.

If only the wizards knew, Death walked amongst them, and it was only the beginning of the chaos that Harry would bring to their world.

* * *

**AN: Another update done, off to see the Dursleys. Something tells me that Harry isn't going to let them house him in the cupboard under the stairs. What do you think? Think the Dursleys will survive the introduction to their nephew? *Insert Evil Smile Here***


	11. Chapter 11: A Death In The Family

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN1: I really haven't felt like writing for a while now and am a little stuck in my muse on the next chapter for all three of my stories. So though I'm starting this chapter on April 26th, 2011, I doubt it will be finished any time soon.**

**AN2: Well look at that, I laid this down in April and here it is in February of 2012. Wow, I am so overdue for an update on this story that it isn't even funny. Oh well, on with the story.**

* * *

/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

'_Thought'_

"Speech"

**Chapter 11: A Death In The Family**

Large Man with Dead Body: Here's one.  
The Dead Collector: That'll be ninepence.  
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.  
The Dead Collector: What?  
Large Man with Dead Body: Nothing. There's your ninepence.  
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.  
The Dead Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead.  
Large Man with Dead Body: Yes he is.  
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not.  
The Dead Collector: He isn't.  
Large Man with Dead Body: Well, he will be soon, he's very ill.  
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm getting better.  
Large Man with Dead Body: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.  
The Dead Collector: Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.  
The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I don't want to go on the cart.  
Large Man with Dead Body: Oh, don't be such a baby.

~"Monty Python, And the Holy Grail," partial quote

Harry and Dumbledore appeared in front of a small suburban house that only stood out from its neighboring abodes by the fact that it was beyond normal. The house where Harry's family supposedly lived looked like it had been taken right out of the page of one of those magazines on housekeeping. No, not one of the designer magazines like Martha Stewart with the latest and greatest decorating tips in them. No, this would have been a magazine that Betty Crocker or June Cleaver would have had sitting on their living room table back in the 1950's. The type of house that would look more fitting in a black and white television show where the married couple doesn't sleep in the same bed but rather a pair of twin beds and the wife meets the husband at the front door in a dress and with a martini when he comes home from work; only in the case of Vernon Dursley he couldn't drink the martinis because they played havoc with his gout.

Yes, Harry's extended family was living in normal bland suburban paradise, where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened and that was just how they liked it. When people think of the suburban dream they talk about the house with the white picket fence, maybe a shrubbery in front of the fence and separating off the neighbor's plot, a car in the driveway and a nondescript white painted house with a brick boarder. There was a neatly pruned pair of rosebushes in a bed that was in front of the house next to the path to the front door, and not a single blade of grass was any taller than the one next to it. Yes, the Dursleys truly did represent the suburban dream, and they even had the equivalent of 2.5 children in the form of one Dudley Dursley; even if he only had a third of the brain power and twice the girth of a single child his age.

"Muggles?" Harry quizzically asked as he looked at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.

Albus's eyes continued to twinkle with that infernal sparkle that, at least in Harry's mind, likened the elderly man more to a pedophile than a professor. "Yes my boy, you're mother's sister and her family are muggles. Surely you don't discriminate against muggles?" The last part of the Headmaster's statement was delivered in a tone that inferred that the man would be deeply disappointed in Harry if he believed in Wizard superiority.

Harry cared not one lick whether Dumbledore would be disappointed or not, still, Harry slowly turned his head to fully face Albus when he answered. "No Headmaster, I can assure you that I judge each individual based on their own merit and the life they lived. Each soul will be weighed on their own regards, and not based on some race, genus or species."

Albus's eyes briefly stopped sparkling for the briefest of moments as he looked down into Harry's eyes and could have sworn that darkness hid in their depths. The moment passed quickly though, and the fairy lights again twinkled in Dumbledore's eyes as he smiled and chose to interpret the Potter boy's statement to mean that Harry's beliefs were already in line with the light; something that would make it easier for Dumbledore to manipulate… um, he meant assist the boy in his growth in the proper direction.

Smiling at Harry, Dumbledore nodded briefly and whisked his way up the driveway and towards the front door, the star and constellation covered purple robes swishing with every step of the elderly bearded wizard.

Harry just shrugged and followed along, the floating trunk tagging along obediently and the crow launching from Harry's shoulder to land on the apex of the garage; looking not unlike a carrion eater waiting for his lunch of road kill, which in fact was exactly what the crow was doing.

Harry briefly heard popping sounds behind him, and noticed several wizards appear on the street in green robes before running towards the neighbors' houses. Soon the calls of "Obliviate!" rang up and down the street.

Harry again gave Dumbledore a silent question with the rise of a single eyebrow. To which Dumbledore smiled benevolently down at Harry and answered, "Being the head of the Wizengamot and the ICW has its privileges. I am allowed to apparate anywhere I wish and an obliviation team follows me around when in muggle areas."

Harry just shook his head in disgust at the abuse of power, but Dumbledore didn't see it, being that the headmaster was busy opening the front door of the Dursley's house and letting Harry and himself in as if he owned the place.

Harry followed Dumbledore into the foyer, arriving just in time to hear the yell of outrage come from the living room where the sound of the afternoon soap opera was playing on the telly.

"Why I never! Who do you think you are? Get out of my house this instant or I'll call the police!" The shrill sound of a harpy shouted at Dumbledore.

Harry's attention pivoted to the left to look into the living room only to see a significantly horse faced skinny woman stand to her feet and vigorously wag her finger at Dumbledore in punctuation with her words.

Dumbledore just ignored the woman and moved into the room as if he owned it. "Now now my dear Petunia, it's been too long since I've seen you. How is your family doing? Vernon and Dumbly was it?" The Headmaster said with a smile.

Petunia's rant stopped mid word, and her eyes grew large as her mouth opened and flapped closed several times before she found her voice. Her words coming out in spat anger. "You! You and your freaky kind aren't welcome in my house! Go! Leave! I won't have your nonsense cluttering up and corrupting my precious Duddiekins."

Dumbledore moved into the room and waved his wand, conjuring not only a chair similar to the one he sat upon in the Great Hall of Hogwarts but also a cup of tea that floated in the air until he took it and the conjured saucer and sat down and enjoyed his tea with a sip before commenting. "Now now Petunia, is that any way to greet your nephew from your late sister?"

Petunia's glare tracked from Dumbledore to Harry so fast that Harry thought that the women may have given her giraffe like neck whiplash. "You're the spawn of my freakish sister? Yes, I can see it now, you have my perfect sister's eyes and the looks of that demon spawn Potter…"

Petunia's words were cut off mid-rant as Dumbledore flicked his wand and cast a silencing spell and a locomotive charm that floated Petunia slightly into the air. Dumbledore spared Harry a brief look and a smile that didn't meet his eyes as he directed Petunia to float into the dining room that was through a secondary door on the other side of the living room from Harry.

"Excuse us for a moment my boy," Dumbledore said with a smile as he got up from his seat, simultaneously banishing the cup and saucer of tea along with the chair while still directing Petunia's floating body into the dining room.

A silencing ward went up over the doorway and Harry's left eyebrow rose as well, as learning to read lips really wasn't that difficult when one was intrinsically linked as the embodiment of death. Death might not be willing to listen to excuses from the condemned on why it wasn't their time, but Death understood their every word and could tell every creature that it was their time in their own language; it was all part of the Death thing that Harry inherently understood and didn't really question.

"Imperio." Dumbledore stated with a flick of his wand, Harry staring at the Headmaster and his aunt and clearly reading every word stated. "You will house your nephew until September 1st and you will treat Harry as you would your sister."

Petunia blinked but nodded while replying in a monotone voice, "I will house the freak and treat him like my sister who I hated."

Dumbledore smiled and turned to smile at Harry as if he was hearing good news, little knowing that Harry had read his Aunt's statement clearly. Harry's second eyebrow rose to join his first raised eyebrow, wondering if Dumbledore really believed he was pulling one over on Harry.

"Excellent, just don't make it too clear that you don't like the lad." Dumbledore said with his patented twinkle in his eyes. "I want the boy tractable and excited about going back to the Wizarding world and thankful for being able to be under my control." Dumbledore commanded and the glossy eyed Petunia nodded her head blankly.

"Wonderful, now turn and smile at Harry and we will rejoin him in the living room." Dumbledore ordered through his teeth while smiling.

Petunia turned and smiled at Harry, only the smile came across more as if it pained her and that perhaps she was constipated and had to go to the bathroom rather than a display of true happiness.

Now it was time for Harry's eyebrows to furrow and pinch together in consternation as he mentally questioned how long he should play along with this farce.

A moment passed as Dumbledore's wand twitched and the silencing ward dropped, as Harry thought to himself, _'I'm patient enough to give this a chance. They are apparently my only living family, so I might as well give it a chance as it is still not the time for me to return to my parent's and the family that has passed through my halls.'_ With that decided, Harry hesitantly nodded to his Aunt and Dumbledore who returned to the room with smiles on their faces; or at least an approximation of a smile on his Aunt's face.

Petunia hesitantly looked to Dumbledore, who gave a brief nod before she turned back to Harry and resumed her constipated look. "I'd like you to stay with us until September first Fre-Harry." Petunia part choked out, part offered, and partially swallowed back her bile that the offer brought up into her mouth.

Harry stared blank faced back at his Aunt for a second, questioning whether he was really going to do this, but then finally nodded and replied, "Thank you Aunt Petunia, that is most gracious of you."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore jumped into the conversation suddenly with a clap of his hands. "Well then, I'll just be off and let you enjoy each other's company. Take care my boy and I look forward to seeing you again September first." Dumbledore finished, and then disappeared with a snap of apparition… leaving Harry and his Aunt to stare blankly at each other in silence.

Petunia grimaced.

Harry stared silently.

Petunia's grimace turned into a frown as she folded her hands in front of her and wrung her hands together.

Harry continued to stare silently.

Petunia looked around as for something to do as the little freak's eyes were really starting to unnerve her, and she started questioning whatever could have inspired her to invite the little menace into her house in the first place; not realizing that it hadn't been her idea at all.

Fortunately for Petunia, she was saved by the opportune arrival of Vernon who happened to get off from work early.

There was a muffled scream and then a pounding sound before the front door to the house was thrown open, only for Vernon to forcefully slam the door shut and throw his weight back against it.

A solid "THUD!" sounded against the door and it shook before a second and a third thud sounded against the door, as if something was trying to get into the house but was being held back by the solid English oak that made up front door; well that and Vernon's weight.

Vernon's eyes were large and frightened as he turned and saw Petunia through the doorway into the living room, the angle of his view not allowing him to realize that he had company.

"It, It… It tried to eat me! That Freakish trunk!" Vernon's eyes had a crazed gleam to them and his face was bright red with a seriously throbbing vein sticking out on his forehead that was probably caused by him getting more exercise than he had had all year by running into the house in that last minute.

"Vernon-" Petunia tried to interrupt her husband's tirade while wringing her hands worriedly about what the neighbors were probably thinking, it wasn't normal for her husband to come running into the house, especially not spouting off about some trunk.

Vernon ignored his wife and threw the deadbolt on the door before turning and standing up on his tip toes to look through the glass vestibule that took up the space to the side of the doorframe. "Some freaky unnatural trunk like thing… I saw it sitting in the driveway and thought Dudley had borrowed something from the neighbors and forgot to return it again, but then it nearly took my arm off when I reached for it." Vernon frantically bent his head all the way against the wall so he could see if the monstrous piece of luggage was out there.

The fat man then quite rapidly, for his size, trudged into the living room and put his hands on the window to look outside while totally missing that there was a third presence in the room, namely missing that Harry was standing in the living room.

Vernon looked to the right, and to the left, pressing his pudgy fat fingers against the glass and no doubt smearing Petunia's immaculately clean windows and creasing the white lace shear that was used as a partial curtain for the window.

"SMACK!" A dark sticky tongue like tentacle shot out of the rose bushes beneath the window and stuck to the window right between Vernon's eyes.

"AHHHHHHH!" Vernon Screamed.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Petunia screamed, and both adult Dursleys ran away from the window and hugged each other in fear.

Harry just shook his head in consternation and walked over to the window and shook his finger down at the trunk that was floating just beneath the window, dark eyes blinking up at Harry.

"No! No eating my relatives." Harry stated loud enough for it to carry through the window, and the trunk seemed to cringe back; the tentacle unstuck itself from the window and slowly trailed back into the mouth of the trunk.

Harry made a shoeing motion with his hands, "Now shoe, go play with Crow or the other neighbor's pets or something." The trunk must have heard Harry's command, for it noticeably perked up and then seemed to pant for a second with its tentacle hanging out of its mouth before it floated away out of sight of the window.

Harry turned to address his still shaken relatives. "Sorry about that. You must be my Uncle, Vernon I think Dumbledore said? It's nice to meet you." Harry took a step towards his Uncle and raised his hand to shake in greeting.

Vernon, red if not purpled faced, stared speechless down at Harry and his hand as if it was some diseased thing that had come to taint his perfectly normal world.

Vernon's vein throbbed in his head, and Harry continued to stand there, hand outreached expecting at least a modicum of politeness. Unfortunately for Harry, Vernon lacked even that level of basic human decency when there was nothing in it for himself. Add to that Harry's trunk had almost eaten him, and he wanted nothing to do with this little freak, and he especially didn't want the freak in his home.

"No! I won't do it, and I don't want you in this house!" Vernon blustered and shouted, letting go of Petunia from his hug and swinging towards Harry with his meaty hands as if to grab Harry by the back of his robed hood in order to throw him out the door.

Harry's eyebrow crooked up, right as Vernon's meaty hand came at him… only to pass right through Harry as if he was a ghost.

Vernon's fist passed not only through his target of the deep hood that was laying on the back of Harry's robe, but the speed with which Vernon had darted at Harry left the whale of a man off balance when his grab totally failed to come in contact with anything substantial. That is, Vernon's hand passed right through Harry and due to the speed of the miss, smacked his knuckles straight into the window frame that bisected the house's front window.

Harry slowly lowered his hand as Vernon pulled his hand back and began screaming, the man's already meaty hand was starting to swell where the skin had split and the knuckles had been broken against the sturdy construction of the house.

The Dursley's living room devolved into more of a circus than a family engagement as Vernon screamed and hopped around the room holding his fist, every hop causing a "thunk" that shook all of those in the vicinity due to Vernon Dursley's four hundred plus pounds of pretty much anything but muscle.

Now the Dursleys were back to the screaming.

Vernon screaming about his broken fist, Petunia screaming to try and get Vernon to stop so she could help him while at the same time screaming that his hopping about was going to break her mother's china that was shaking in its display case along one of the walls. All the while Harry stood there silently watching and wondering if this was some strange custom that he hadn't experienced yet in his apprenticeship with Death.

Finally Harry had enough, so with a wave of his hand the hopping Vernon froze, one foot in the air and one on the ground, and Petunia who had been chasing after her husband around the room halted as if a statute, the only thing on the two Dursley's moving were frantic eyes that quickly swung to look at Harry out of the corner of their vision.

Harry slowly walked towards his relatives while noting in the back of his head that he could see the fear in their eyes, but since most people were afraid of death it wasn't anything Harry hadn't experienced before.

Harry reached forward towards Vernon's injured hand and tapped it with a single finger, and with a brief flash of blue light that encompassed Vernon's meaty fist, the previous injury was healed just like that.

"There, much better." Harry answered with a brief bob of the head before he stepped back and raised his hand to shake Vernon's once again while negating the petrifying charm Harry had cast on his relatives.

"I believe we started off on the wrong foot. My name is Harry Potter, and it's a pleasure to meet you Uncle Vernon." Harry politely added as he waited for his Uncle to shake his hand.

Vernon stumbled out of his awkward position as the charm ended and then looked down at Harry's hand like it had leprosy or something. Frantic fear filled eyes shifting back and forth from Harry's hand to Harry's face and back again as the bulky man scooted away slowly.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes in resignation and let his hand drop to his side as he realized that his Uncle was unable to complete a common greeting.

Vernon kept his front towards Harry, but looked at Petunia through the corner of his eye while pretending not to see Harry in front of him.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Grunnings has given me that raise that was overdue, so I called Marge and she said that she was going to kip over and eat dinner with us." Vernon stated, and by the end of his message Vernon had effectively removed the presence of Harry by simply ignoring the boy like Harry didn't exist.

Petunia smiled at Vernon, a look that truly didn't suit the woman, as she exclaimed happily, "Wonderful, I can't wait to tell the women's bridge group about your movement up the management tree, why Georgia from number two was simply bragging about her husband making supervisor, and now I will be able to tell her about your middle management change." Petunia looked gleeful and she seemed to sway from side to side in joy. It is important to note that an outside observer would probably have likened the look of the woman's supposed happiness to that of severe constipation, or bloating, or perhaps even that Petunia had a hemorrhoid. All of which made Harry a bit discouraged at the thought of eating dinner with his Aunt and Uncle.

"Absolutely Pet." Vernon said happily for a moment, only to frown and turn a slow glare towards the unwanted Nephew in their midst. "However what will we do about the boy? You told me that you only bought a twenty five pound bird, and that's hardly enough food for Dudley, you and I, let alone Marge." Vernon grumbled and glared through his pig like squinty eyes down at Harry.

Harry in turn just stared back unblinking at his Uncle, totally unfazed by the glare that his Uncle was attempting to deliver.

Petunia looked form Vernon to Harry and rung her hands together worriedly before answer with a shrug, "Well we will just have to figure out something for the boy. Don't worry about it." Petunia then turned to Harry and frowned.

Harry sighed; it was times like this that he remembered a quote he had learned from one American Wizard, Benjamin Franklin, "Fish and visitors begin to stink in three days." Only in Harry's case, his family was beginning to smell rotten after three minutes. It was going to be a trying visit for all parties involved.

* * *

"Why I was telling you, the breeding bares through I tell you." Marge Dursley repeated for the sixteenth time since she had arrived and started into the Sherry. Every statement she made was prefaced or followed by a "I tell you" as if she was pontificating from on high or held the moral high ground on all of her statements. It probably didn't help that she was already well on her way to being pissed as a fart, or in American vernacular, she was getting pretty drunk. The fact that she had only been in the house for five minutes didn't seem to matter either, for though she weighed in at over two hundred and eight pounds she was a light weight when it came to her alcohol.

"And I'm telling you, that's why Ripper is mommy's special boy, aren't you precious?" Marge finished, holding her glass down to the floor so that her dog Ripper could lap at the Sherry in her glass for a few seconds before she raised it back to her mouth and drank from the same glass.

"Right you are Sister, breeding rules out. That's why I got the manager position and why Dudley is such a strapping young lad like his father." Vernon said proudly with a smirk on his face as he cut into his pre-dinner snack of a whole steak, food splattering out of his mouth as he spoke.

This was the conversation that Harry walked into after having previously excused himself to the facilities and to wash up before coming down for dinner.

Harry stepped into the room, and Ripper took one look at him and charged across the linoleum floor at what the dog initially thought was a normal boy whom he could chase; as Marge had taught the dog to do in order to keep the riff raff away from her kennels and property.

"Bark bark Bark Bark bark!" Ripper let out in a bray as he charged out from under the table and towards Harry. That is until Ripper got within five feet of Harry and realized that here was something that the dog did not want to tangle with. "Yip yip yip YIP!" Ripper's ferocious barks became yips of terror as the bulldog struggled to stop and divert its charge into a retreat only to find inertia and a linoleum floor to not be the dog's friend.

Harry merely looked back at the charging dog unperturbed as the forward charge of the dog became a rapid scrambling of clawed feet on slippery linoleum as the dog twisted to stop its forward momentum. Ripper's leg's clawed at the floor like crazy, trying to find any purchase as every instinct in the animal was telling it to flee from certain death; or in this case just the personification of death. And all this Harry just watched on without a shred of emotion on his face.

"YIP!" Ripper sounded as he finally got traction and darted back the other direction towards Marge, then past Marge and out the opening of the back door that had been opened to take the heat out of the kitchen.

"Precious! Precious come to mommy!" Marge cried out as she tottered out of her chair and pushed the back door fully open so she could call after Ripper to come back.

However the dog wouldn't listen to her and Ripper continued his mad dash out the back, around the side of the house and to disappear from view, yipping the whole time only for the yipping sound to stop suddenly after a few minutes.

"You!" Marge wheeled on Harry, making the pronoun singular "you" sound like a defamatory curse word.

Harry merely watched the path of the dog, only to look up and quirk his head to the side at the woman's statement.

"Yes?" Harry merely questioned, a single eyebrow rising with his statement as he looked on impassively.

Marge looked Harry over with disgust, "Who are you boy, and how dare you kick my Ripper?" She spat at him.

Harry's brows nit in consternation, "I'm sorry Madam, but as you clearly saw I never touched your dog. As to who I am, my name is Harry Potter and I am your nephew, on Petunia's side." He answered succinctly and without any anger.

Marge's face took on the appearance as if she was sucking on lemons before darting a look towards Petunia who was watching angrily, "You're sister's pup then Petunia, the one you said married that drunken reprobate and died in a car accident." Marge stated, to which Petunia nodded in agreement.

A smirk crept across Marge's face, "Then no wonder Ripper ran away, wouldn't want to soil himself by catching some sort of disease due to your bad breeding." Marge said snidely, grabbing her glass off the table and chugging down the contents. "Look at you, scrawny and pale compared to fine upstanding men like Vernon. I tell you, breeding will tell, that's what I say." Marge finished with an evil malicious look on her face.

Harry looked across the room and saw that Vernon was smirking back at Harry in total agreement with Marge's statement. Harry's aunt Petunia was looking back at him as if he was soiling the air she was breathing, as if somebody had brought a turd into the house and plopped it down in her kitchen.

Enough was enough.

"I find myself without an appetite. It was a pleasure to meet you Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, but I believe I will be seeking my dinner elsewhere tonight." Harry stated politely with a slight bow of his head before wheeling on his foot and heading for the front door.

"Fine, leave and good riddance." Vernon yelled behind him, "You're no family of mine!" The man yelled with a smirk on his face, not even getting up to show his nephew out the door as Harry moved out of the kitchen and into the entry way.

The front door slammed open and Dudley Dursley rushed in while quickly hiding his stolen pack of cigarettes in his back pocket.

"Hey, who are you?" Dudley demanded as Harry moved forward and gently but firmly pushed Dudley out of the way so that Harry could leave the house.

"Apparently no family of yours." Harry said, not letting the bit of hurt he truly felt come into his voice.

Dudley blinked, as the response didn't really filter though his thick skull. Nor did the fact that a boy who looked ten times skinnier than Dudley had so easily moved Dudley out of his way.

Harry exited the house and politely closed the door to number 4 Privet Drive behind him while stepping out onto the front stoop.

Harry stood still and breathed in deeply while closing his eyes before breathing out slowly and opening them again. With his thoughts cleared, Harry stepped off the stoop while looking directly at the apex of the roof where he knew that Crow was situated.

"Come Crow, we are going to go out for dinner." Harry stated, and his bird squawked as it flew off the roof to alight on Harry's shoulder just as Harry's trunk floated out of the hedge on the side of the house.

Harry looked down at his trunk, which was looking happily back up at Harry.

A small smile quirked the corner of Harry's lips as he looked down at his loyal trunk. "Well at least it looks like you had a good time." Harry stated.

"Burp!" The Trunk replied, its lid flipping open for a moment and launching a saliva covered collar with dog tags on it onto the walk in front of Harry's feet. The blue colored dog bone shaped tag on the collar clearly read "Ripper".

"Good trunk." Harry said as his smile grew a bit larger, and he patted his trunk on its lid.

As Harry's hand rested on the top of his trunk, there came a "Pop" sound, and Harry Potter and his pets left the Dursleys, for now.

* * *

Six hours later, after a nice dinner in Paris with a view of the Bastille, now devoid of its population of ghosts thanks to Harry, Harry reappeared silently in the shadows across the street from Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey.

The street was absolutely still and quiet and only somebody with exceptionally good hearing would have noted the sound of multiple people snoring inside the Dursley's home.

Harry wasn't about to disturb their sleep, so he stood still and quiet, his trunk and his bird patiently waiting as they watched the house in front of them.

Harry could feel the souls of Vernon, Petunia, Dudley and Marge in the house. The three main bodies upstairs in their beds, and Marge's spirit was currently resting where Harry knew the couch in the front room to be.

Still he waited silently in the dark of the night.

A cloud went in front of the crescent moon and the street was briefly darker for a moment before the wind blew the cloud away.

Now where there was one Harry there were two figures looking exactly the same.

"So tonight's the night then." Harry asked quietly and in a still voice that seemed to drift no further than to the figure of his twin.

"_**Yes. Petunia drank a bit too much and forgot to turn the gas off on the stove. Only somebody sleeping on the floor in the Kitchen or nearby cupboard would be able to smell it before it was too late."**_ The voice of Death stated from Harry's twin standing in the shadows next to Harry.

Harry stood, silently looking out at Number 4 Privet Drive, making no reply.

"_**You know, you can warn them before the short in the refrigeration unit lights the gas."**_ Death stated, looking over at his double.

Harry Potter looked out at the house in front of him; the Dursley's home was bathed in moonlight yet shadowed from the street lamps.

Harry stood silently for more than a minute, only to turn away.

"No. It is their time." Harry responded as he started to fade away, "They are no family of mine." He finished just as he disappeared along with his trunk and Crow.

With that, the figure of Death, morphing until he looked like an older Harry Potter, floated forward towards Number 4 Privet Drive…

Just as the house disappeared in a giant ball of flames.

The Dursleys had tried to cast Harry Potter from their house. But in the end, Death gives no second chance when it is your time to go.

* * *

**AN: I know it's taken a very very very long time to get this out, but I needed to sit on this and my muse was focused on Spark of Genius and my other stories. For the record, I have not abandoned this story and never will. It will be finished; it will just take a while. Hope you like it, and please let me know your thoughts as I am always looking for ideas. If you know of any good death myths or folk lore stories about death, then please send them my way. Best wishes to all of you. Cheers!**


	12. Chapter 12: Death Travels Among The Livi

**Harry Potter and the Aspects of Death**

Disclaimer, don't own it, wish I did because then I wouldn't have to work so many hours at my day job.

**AN1: My grandfather died, and I'm writing this as I travel across the U.S. towards the place of his funeral. I thought it was fitting that I write about Death given that it's first and foremost on my mind at the moment. On that cheery note, enjoy the story. 2012**

**AN2: I put this story down after the funeral, the death and sorrow were just too much to deal with. Other life difficulties came my way and this chapter fell by the wayside. None of my stories are abandoned, they just don't get written until I feel like it. Shrug* Now I'm back to feeling like writing again and hope to put out a chapter of this, oops and some of my other works that have been getting dusty. I hope you enjoy. Cheers! 5/8/2013**

* * *

/Egyptian/

[parsel]

_**Death's Voice**_

**[Gobbledeegook]**

'_Thought'_

"Speech"

**Chapter 12: Death Travels Among The Living**

"Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come."

~William Shakespeare

Death was sorely vexed, and by Death, I mean Harry Potter. To be specific, Harry was vexed, irked, irritated and most of all displeased by his interactions with the wizarding folk as he entered the platform of nine and three quarters, crossing the threshold of the magical barrier hidden in the column between platforms nine and ten, and he entered into shear bedlam.

Flashes of light momentarily blinded Harry as he entered the magical platform that housed the Hogwart's Express only to be swarmed by reporters and well-wishers. Shouts of questions where thrown at him willy-nilly as others clamored for his attention while the constant flashes of cameras acted like some sort of strobe light controlled by a deranged house elf on methamphetamine.

"Mr. Potter! How did you survive the house fire at your relatives?!" One blonde curly haired reporter shouted above the din as a quick quills pen followed her along and her photographer took photograph after photograph.

"Potter! Is it true you've been living with Merlin and the four Hogwart Founders in some sort of Time Bubble for the last eleven years?!" Another questioned loudly as they all charged forward to try and talk to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, is the boy-who-lived dating anybody at the moment? Which do you prefer, blondes, brunettes or gingers?" A young witch with a press pass that stated she was with Witches Weekly demanded.

"Mr. Potter, do you believe that Minister Fudge is the high muckety-muck-mucker behind the Rotfang Conspiracy, or is he merely an unwitting pawn?" A wizard in brightly colored robes and a wand behind his ear asked politely, his quiet demeanor coming through due to the fact that he was the only reporter not currently yelling questions but merely asked politely.

The questions would have continued unabated if it wasn't for the fact that one reporter had the nerve to try and grab Harry by the sleeve of Harry's robe. It wasn't the fact that the reporter was infringing on Harry's personal space that stopped the questions, all of the reporters were by this time crushing Harry and jostling right up against him, no, it was the sudden introduction of a long black tentacle like tongue that shot out of the trunk floating loyally behind Harry; a tongue that yanked the reporter's hand off of Harry's sleeve and into the trunk's mouth where it began gnawing on the man's arm much to the reporter's displeasure and screams of pain.

"AHHHH!" The concentrated group of reporters all screamed as one and just as they had been jostling to get close to Harry, now they were all equally pushing and shoving in their attempts to get as far away from Harry's trunk as possible… well, all that is except for two reporters. Unnamed reporter "A" now not only had his hand stuck in the trunk, but other tentacles had come out and wrapped the man up, helping the trunk try and disappear that now kicking feet that were slowly being engulfed in the dark confines of the trunk's interior. The other undaunted reporter was the one in the brightly colored mix-matched robes with the wand behind his ear as he was quite busy making a sketch of the trunk to include in that week's Quibbler portion of new and exciting animals.

Harry sighed disgustedly and shook his head at the sheep of the Wizarding world before looking down at his trunk and giving it a knock with his knuckles hard enough to leave a thump sound.

"Spit that out." Harry commanded of his trunk.

His trunk in turn swiveled its many lacquered and decorative, yet functional, eyes towards Harry with a whine and a pout; only the reporters two shoes kicking wildly out of the side of its maw ruined the image of a thousand "puppy dog" eyes staring up at Harry.

Harry frowned, "Don't give me that look. It's for your own good. You don't know where that man has been, and several of these wizards believe that cleaning charms are sufficient rather than soap and water. Who knows what germs he's carrying."

The trunk pouted, then with an all mighty "PHTEUY!" spat the reporter out of its interior and causing the man to tumble and skip across the train platform until slamming into a stack of trunks that were being loaded onto the train. The trunk then turned its mournful eyes up at Harry and seemed to wilt under Harry's disapproving look.

Harry sighed as he stared down at his trunk and reached down to pat its lid. "There there, we'll find you a nice pet to eat while on the train." Harry added.

The trunk in turn seemed to smile and one of its long tentacle like tongues dangled out of its maw like it was a panting dog before darting upwards the two feet to Harry's face and giving Harry a lick on the cheek.

Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he patted his trunk again and headed for the train.

As Harry walked, the children already on the train pushed their faces and their hands against the glass to watch what the commotion. Realizing that it was The-Boy-Who-Lived, they gossiped and speculated, all of them not really caring that Harry could probably hear every word they were saying. The parents and children on the platform were not a whole lot better either, as many pointed or muttered to each other.

Harry paid them little mind as the masses parted for Harry, his Crow resting on his shoulder and floating trunk dutifully following behind. Harry paid attention to the crowd around him and sighed.

There was a large family of gingers who were rushing to get on the train, and it looked like it was all the mother could do to hold back the youngest female child from rushing towards Harry; though the mother was also giving Harry a bit of a hungry gleaming look.

Down the platform Harry also recognized the Malfoy's, and Harry briefly made eye contact with Mr. Malfoy, enough so that the head of House Malfoy turned a whiter shade of pale than normal and bent down to whisper into what must have been Lucius's son. The pale boy with the bleach blond hair seemed to glare at Harry, but nodded silently to whatever Lucius was telling the boy.

Harry just looked away and seemingly picked a door of the train at random, climbed the steps to the bright red boxcar and entered the hallway.

Giggling girls and awe struck boys parted or glued themselves to the windows as Harry made his way into the middle of boxcar's length and found himself an empty compartment to claim as his own. Settling down with a sigh, crow flew up to silently perch on the rack above the seat, Harry's trunk floated over to settle next to the window where it would eventually be able to watch the countryside pass after the train had left.

Harry settled for looking out the train, discouraged about his situation and wondering if it was even worthwhile to play at living in the mortal world. It felt so dull, so contrived and artificial as people scurried about their little lives thinking that everything they did was so important in the swing of things.

Harry looked out at the population with eyes tainted by a history well beyond his supposed years. In his training and apprenticeship to death, he had seen life after life end, be judged and then pass on in history to the point that even the most important king, queen hero or even tyrant was forgotten to the annals of time. Yet still the mortals around Harry scurried to and fro as if being late for a train would mean the end of the world.

Still, Harry quirked his head as he watched a bushy haired child hug her two parents, no doubt muggles due to their garb. The smiles and love shared between the child and the parents, tears glistening in their eyes as they wished each other goodbye, touched a part of Harry's heart. Maybe it was longing for what he had only briefly had during his short infancy, or maybe it was that indescribable aspect of life that is called love that all humans yearned for. Whatever it was, a small part of Harry wondered if love was what made life worth living. That force that would cause a mother to offer up her own life to a murderer rather than her child's, even though she knows she had no hope of saving either herself or her son. Love, that unknown power that was in some ways antithetical to the powers of death, yet also such an ingrained part; for there is a certain sense of love that exists in offering the pained, the weary, the old and infirmed a final peaceful rest.

Harry's maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the door to his compartment being shoved open and a red headed boy entered while dragging in a beat up old trunk.

"Everything else is full, mind if I join you?" The boy questioned without waiting for a response; hoisting his trunk up onto the shelf above the seat while plopping himself down in a slouch across from Harry.

Harry merely stared at the boy silently with that blank facial expression as if he was reviewing a particularly interesting insect that fluttered past or perhaps even just reading something as bland a newspaper article about the latest market trends.

The red head looked back at Harry, waiting for a response that never came. As the seconds of silence ticked by, the red head began to squirm under Harry's unblinking gaze and silent visage.

"Um, I'm Ron Weasley, what's your name?" The boy, now identified as Ron, asked while his eyes tried to look back at Harry but were unnerved by the constant stare so never stayed focused on Harry's face. Adding to Ron's discomfort was Harry's large Crow, sitting still and gazing down unerringly at Ron as if the boy were carrion on the side of the road ready to be eaten.

"Harry Potter." Death's Master replied without ceasing his look back at the boy that dared to approach him and had the gall to not only lie about all compartments being full, but also try and play games with Death.

"Really!?" Ron stated with a gasp, as if he didn't really know.

Harry's right eyebrow merely rose in reply, as if to infer, "Are you really that dumb, or do you think I don't know you are acting?" However he did not respond verbally.

"Right… um," Ron gulped and looked out the window before trying again to strike up a conversation with the still staring Harry Potter. "So, um, do you, you know, have the scar?"

Harry blinked, and wondered if this was the type of inane question he was going to receive from his counterparts at school. If that was true, then he was definitely not going to enjoy his time at Hogwarts; a time that he was more and more believing would be brief before he said to hell with the wizarding world of Great Britain.

Harry's gaze moved away from the idiotic boy and towards the glass windows separating the compartment from the hallway.

Several girls in the hallway screamed at being caught spying on Harry, before putting their hands to their mouths while giggling and scurrying back down the corridor and out of Harry's sight.

Harry merely shook his head in disgust just as a squeak caught his attention and he turned his head back towards Ron.

An old rat scurried out of Ron's pocket while making sniffling and squeaking sounds, sounds that not only drew Harry's attention, but also Harry's trunk…

Quick as a wink, tentacles launched out of the maw of Harry's trunk and snatched the rat off of Ron's lap.

Ron screamed.

The rat Squealed.

Harry smirked.

The rat then suddenly turned into a full grown adult man who screamed in fear, only for Ron to wet himself and jump out of his seat screaming even more as the trunk proceeded to start swallowing the man whole.

This was quickly followed by Ron fainting in a puddle of his own pee, Harry blinked, and the man was gobbled up by the trunk.

The screams stopped as the trunk fully swallowed the man, and the compartment was silent for several moments as Harry took in the impact of what he had just seen. Obviously the rat was a wizard animagus hiding as a pet rat.

Harry looked at his trunk.

The trunk turned its thousand eyes towards Harry, myriad puppy dog eyes pleading with Harry to let the trunk keep its meal.

Finally, after a few more minutes of Harry looking at the trunk, and the trunk silently pleading with Harry, Harry smiled. "Well, I did say you could eat a pet on the train, and that counts I guess. Good trunk, let's see if we can find a compartment that doesn't smell like urine."

The trunk replied with a "Burp" followed by a contented tentacle licking the edge of its lid as if smacking its lips as it hovered off the ground. Harry got up from his seat and left the compartment with his trunk following along as Harry's pet Crow hopped off its perch and glided down to seat itself on the lid of the eerie black trunk.

With that, Harry Potter stepped out into the corridor, leaving behind the unconscious Ron Weasley and any hope of a friendship with the dim witted boy. It was then time to find another compartment, and Harry merely smiled as trunk took an opportunity to swallow a toad that had mistakenly strayed from its owner and out into the hall.

After all, Death didn't really care about one simple life, whether that be of a toad, a man, or a rat.

* * *

The train pulled up to Hogwarts station in Hogsmead, and the students piled off the train… only to begin screaming.

There before the students, where carriages pulled by invisible means had once been, were now the stuff of literal Nightmares.

Pitch black horses baring scalely stretched and drawn thin skin, skeletal wings and boney bodies with sharp pointy teeth looked at the students with light absorbing black eyes.

Pure pandemonium struck the entire Hogwarts population as the students in the front of the crowd came to a sudden stop and screamed or bellowed in fright as every student was suddenly able to see the thestrals.

This was all because of one simple thing, they had all seen Death.

Little did the gaping and jeering children of Hogwarts know that when they had stared at Harry Potter, gossiped and pointed fingers, they were opening themselves up to seeing a side of life that they never knew. In that one simple instance, their innocence was lost as they received their first view of death and forever their world view would be tainted.

Harry smiled as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the bellowing giant of a man who was attempting unsuccessfully to sort out the very frightened first years from the rest of startled crowd of students.

No, Harry only had eyes for the beautiful steads in front of him, who upon feeling Death draw near stamped their hooves and threw their heads back in whinny's of delight while shaking their manes and flicking their tails; a sight that caused the other students to stampede back onto the train and lock themselves in their compartments.

Harry meanwhile walked up to the largest most deadly looking stallion of the thestral herd, a beast that towered over Harry's current small size, and Harry raised his hand up to pet the horse's thigh.

The great stallion of Hogwarts' thestral herd gently lowered its head, then still strapped to its carriage, knelt down on the ground and nuzzled into Harry's chest while sniffling the boy; causing Harry to laugh and smile as the sharp teeth nibbled affectionately at Harry but never even nipped Harry's robe or flesh.

"Blimey, I wonder what has gotten into that lot." A big gruff voice issued from behind Harry as Hagrid moved forward shaking his head but smiling at Harry's interaction with the thestrals.

"And you must be Harry Potter, a spot off your parent you are. Why Lily Potter and James were always kind to me and my little pets, and you're just like them, aren't you Harry." Hagrid said as he came up beside Harry and leaned over to stroke the thestral that was nuzzling Harry. Hagrid always believed he had a good sense about beasties, and especially the misunderstood ones that people thought were deadly. And here was Harry Potter, feeling exactly the same to Hagrid as those misunderstood cuddly creatures.

Harry turned and looked up at the tall man next to him, noting the smile that peaked through the scruffy large beard on the bear sized man.

"We seem to have an understanding of each other." Harry stated with a last pat to the thestral's head before stepping back and looking up at the big man with a smile, "You seem to know me, but I don't think we've met before."

Hagrid smiled down at Harry and held out a large meaty hand, rough and callused, "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds Keeper at Hogwarts, and let me be the first to welcome you to your new school Harry. I knew your parents, good people they were and don't let anybody tell you otherwise." Hagrid finished while now shaking Harry's hand up and down and would surely have damaged Harry's shoulder if Harry hadn't been made of sterner stuff.

"Pleasure." Harry stated before looking around and then back at the train, the windows now jammed packed with students pressed to every visible compartment as they squished against the glass to watch stunned as Harry, Hagrid and the thestrals interacted calmly.

Hagrid scratched his beard, "Strangest thing." The giant man stated as he shook his head looking back at the students in the train. "Going to have to call McGonagall down to deal with this one, never seen it's like before. You best take this carriage on up to the castle while I get this settled Harry."

Harry merely nodded and entered the carriage along with his trunk and his crow before the carriage started moving to transport Harry up to the castle.

Behind him, Harry left a befuddled Hagrid and a populous of Hogwarts' students forever scarred by his passing.

For one cannot see Death and remain unaffected.

* * *

**AN: Ok, back again with another chapter even if it is short. This hasn't been beta read, I don't think Harry had met Hagrid previously but please correct me if I'm wrong. Also, I didn't want to get into the sorting and the introduction to the staff as that is going to be a doozy of a chapter, and I still haven't figured out which house to put Harry in if any at all. Hope you enjoyed, and I hope you are still following this story even after all this time without posting. Let me know if you have any ideas on what affect Death walking the Halls of Hogwarts would have. How will the Ghosts react? Binns? Peeves the poltergeist? How about animals, as there are studies about pets knowing when death is drawing near to their owners; especially cats or dogs which makes me think of Ms. Norris… I'm not going to hit at anything else; I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with that may help my Muse kick into high gear. Cheers!**


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